


Marti e Nico

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Drabble Collection, During Canon, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 74
Words: 59,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: Collection of SKAM Italia drabbles from my tumblr, featuring Martino & Nico, and various others.





	1. Gio Wonders What's Wrong with Marti

**Author's Note:**

> These are short little drabble things I occasionally write and post on my SKAM IT tumblr: [azozzoni](https://azozzoni.tumblr.com/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gio's POV after Martino comes back from the bathroom that fateful day, you know the one.

Gio knows something’s wrong with Marti. He doesn’t know what and he doesn’t know why Marti isn’t telling him, but something is definitely off. Whenever Elia asks him about it, or shoots him that look, he shrugs it off, deflects the question, but Gio knows some day he’s going to have to get an answer.

When Marti comes back to gym class, Gio can’t help but notice the slight smile on his face. It’s been days, weeks, since he’s seen it.

“What exactly happened in the bathroom?” he asks after coach finally lets them stop doing sit-ups, placing a hand on Marti’s shoulder.

Marti immediately blinks, any trace of a smile vanishing. “What do you mean?”

And there it is again, Gio thinks. What hurts more than anything is the thought that Marti doesn’t want to tell him what’s going on. It’s more than his mom. It has to be. Gio’s been through all of that with Marti, even sat with him for days after his dad left, reassuring him that things would be okay.

He wants to tell Marti it’s okay, that Marti can tell him whatever it is. They’ve been best friends for years. They know everything about each other, but whatever this is, Marti doesn’t want him to know.

“You just looked happy for a second there.”

Marti shifts under Gio’s gaze, shrugging off Gio’s hand. “Nothing happened. Just glad to get out of doing crunches for a minute. Coach is a slave driver.”

Gio doesn’t sigh, though he wants to, studying the bags under Martino’s eyes instead.

“Where are we going for lunch?” Elia demands as he bounces up to both of them. “I’m starving.”

“We’ll just go down the street,” Gio says when Martino doesn’t offer a suggestion, sinking into the background in a way he didn’t used to do.

As they head out of the gym, Gio can feel Marti behind him, not quite in step, and he wonders, worries, if maybe this time, it’s something he can’t help. He just hopes that some day, Marti will tell him. Some day.


	2. Nico Loves Marti's Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude in the "In My Bed" clip.

“I love your tattoos,” Niccolò says, finger tracing the palm tree on Martino’s ankle.

“You do?”

They’re laying on opposite ends of the bed, passing a joint between them, and Martino’s head feels light, pleasantly relaxed as they lay there in the mid-morning sunlight streaming through Niccolò’s window. His skin tingles where Niccolò touches it and he doesn’t want to hand back the joint, to make Niccolò stop.

Niccolò’s smile widens, and before Martino can stop him, he’s crawling up so they’re face to face and Martino is trying not to stare at Niccolò’s bare chest. He doesn’t know where Niccolò’s shirt went and he doesn’t care.

Niccolò plucks the joint from his hand, taking the last drag. He sets it aside, leaning into Martino, brushing his fingers over the tattoo on Martino’s shoulder. Martino fights back a shiver, his heart thumping in a way it never has before. He’d thought, after last night, that he couldn’t feel any happier, but here, with Niccolò so close, every touch so soft and careful it makes his heart hurt somehow—he didn’t even know that was possible—every moment seems to get better.

“They’re so you,” Niccolò says, and Martino smiles, leaning into Niccolò without even thinking, happy when Niccolò meets him in the middle for a soft, lazy kiss that Martino never wants to end.

He never imagined it would be so easy, so simple, to be with someone like Niccolò. He’s spent so much time wishing and it almost doesn’t feel real even when Niccolò’s fingers trace his jaw, bury themselves in his hair and Niccolò kisses him slowly, lips dragging against his.

“What is me?” Marti asks, reaching for Niccolò’s waist, almost tentative against the bare skin, nervous still.

Niccolò’s smile brightens up the room and he hums softly. “Your tattoos,” he says, fingers falling down Martino’s neck and Martino closes his eyes for a second, concentrating on Niccolò’s voice, deep and smooth. “Your freckles.” Niccolò presses a kiss to Martino’s chin and Martino’s smile widens. “Your smile.” Martini opens his eyes to meet Niccolò’s.

It’s crazy that he’s here, Martino thinks. Crazy and amazing, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything when Niccolò leans into him.

“You are everything,” Niccolò says, staring deep into Martino’s eyes, and Martino feels like he can see everything about him.

“So are you,” he says and Niccolò laughs before he closes the gap and Martino never wants this moment to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants to live in this moment forever, and as he presses closer to Niccolò, he thinks maybe he can.


	3. Niccolo Sees Martino for the First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Nico sees Martino on that first day of school.

Nico clutched the brick phone in his pocket like it was an anchor as he approached the front door of the school, a new school in his last year. Just perfect. Somehow, he still expected his phone to buzz like it used to, with notifications about things he didn’t care about, texts from people who were no longer his friend.

He dreaded every step, every pair of eyes that flicked towards him, as if they knew he didn’t belong.

But Niccolo put on a smile, a mask, over his feelings, over the unease creeping down his spine.

It was only the first day, and already, Nico didn’t want to be there. Already, he had fantasies of running off to find somewhere to smoke a joint, to relax and pretend like last year hadn’t happened.

This year was going to be better, he told himself as he glanced around the courtyard, the groups of friends all excited to see each other after the summer vacation, all looking forward to another year. Niccolo felt a swoop of disappointment as he thought that he didn’t have that. Would never have it again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to a text message from Maddalena.

Good luck! it read. He didn’t need luck. He needed friends.

A group of boys stood over by the fence, talking and laughing, shoving each other playfully, and Niccolo’s heart ached, just for a second, but as he watched, his eyes fell on the boy at the end, the one smiling and laughing along, but as soon as his friends looked away, his smile fell and he seemed alone.

Niccolo couldn’t help but notice this boy, with his messy hair and freckles scattered across his face. When he smiled, his whole face lit up, and Niccolo watched as the group moved into the school a minute later, not a single one noticing him across the courtyard.

Well, he thought, shouldering his bag. Maybe this year would be better. And maybe he’d see that boy again.

Joining the crowd of students, he blended into the throng and headed inside for what he hoped might be the change he needed.


	4. Martino's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marti, the boys, and Nico celebrate Martino's birthday out at the lake.

Marti was pleasantly buzzed. Not falling down drunk, but everything swaying kind of drunk, and he curled into Nico on the couch as Gio and Elia made a competition out of stacking beer bottles on the table.

“Are you sure you didn’t want have a party for your birthday?” Nico asked, fingers carding through Martino’s hair, gentle, careful.

“And be surrounded by tons of people who are only there to get drunk and hook up? I don’t think so.” Martino was perfectly content having his friends with him. Gio had offered up his aunt’s cabin and they’d taken the train out there earlier that afternoon.

“What about your parents?” Nico asked, nuzzling into Martino’s neck and Martino couldn’t help laughing as Nico’s breath tickled his skin. “Didn’t they want to throw you a party?”

“My dad’s too busy with his new family, and I don’t want to stress my mom out.”

Things had gotten better since he and Nico had gotten together, Martino had to admit. Somehow, he didn’t feel so alone, even if Nico couldn’t do much to help.

“How many beers have you had, Marti?” Elia asked, interrupting them, clunking down two more on the table before him and Niccolò. “Not enough! It’s your birthday, bro, and we are here to celebrate!”

“I think I’ve had enough,” Marti said, remembering that fateful night last year when he’d found himself wandering on Via San Giovanni after the disastrous beers at Luca’s.

“Then I think it’s time for a little party favor,” Elia said with a wink, taking a joint out of his pocket and waving it at them.

“Outside,” Gio said, ushering Elia and Luca out the door as Martino hauled himself up and Nico joined him.

Nico grabbed his hand before Martino could get too far, pulling him back and gazing into his eyes, fingers brushing over his face. Even after months, the touch still gave him butterflies, as though it was the first time every time.

“Happy birthday, Marti,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing him softly.

Martino wrapped his arms around Nico’s neck, pressing closer, his heart fluttering stupidly, like it did every time Nico kissed him. Even if things weren’t perfect, even if they never would be, Martino wouldn’t trade any of this. He wouldn’t trade Nico’s kisses, the way he always reached for Marti first, pressed their palms together, brushed their arms together when they were out in public, linked their pinkies on the train. 

Nico’s hands slid to Martino’s waist, clutching at his shirt, sliding up his back, warm and firm, and Martino laughed as Nico reached his shoulder blades, as if searching out every bit of skin he could reach.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Gio called from the door. “Stop making out and get out here!”

Martino laughed as Nico pulled away, grinning and grabbing his hand instead. 

“Let’s go before he drags us out by our ears,” Martino said, tugging Nico with him outside.

*

“Remember when you kissed the frog?” Elia said, making an inappropriate face, sticking his tongue out, while Luca keeled over with laughter where he sat on the blanket next to Elia. Waves lapped at the shore down the way and a light breeze rustled the plants crawling up towards the house.

“You mean when you made her choose someone to kiss?” Martino reminded him, settled comfortably against Nico, leaning his head on his shoulder.

A few months ago, he would never have imagined this scenario to be possible, sitting here with Nico’s arm around his shoulder, fingers playing absently with his hair, Gio, Elia, and Luca all talking and laughing, passing the joint around like Nico had been part of the group forever.

He knew Nico was just as grateful that Martino’s friends had so readily accepted him, had practically declared him family once the truth had come out, embraced him as one of their own.

“Is that why she was so obsessed with you?” Nico asked, taking the joint Luca passed him.

“I didn’t exactly discourage it,” Martino admitted. It hadn’t been his finest moment, the whole Emma thing.

Gio laughed, shaking his head. “He let us believe he actually liked her, the fucker.”

“You assumed, and I didn’t correct you,” Martino said, feeling Niccolò shift next to him, breathing out the smoke, the scent sweet as Martino breathed it in.

“Well, she’s long gone now,” Gio said, tipping his beer at Nico. “And I think we got the better deal.”

A smile bloomed on Nico’s face, and Martino couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful and happy and content all at once. He could have had a big party and invited the whole class and had a grumpy bouncer keeping underclassmen out, but he would rather have been there, with his friends, with Nico, frogs chirping from the weeds.

“I think you did too,” Nico said, and Martino scoffed, shoving him playfully.

“Yeah, because you didn’t like Emma.”

“And because I like you,” he said, leaning into Marti, tilting his chin up for a kiss.

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Elia interrupted, and Marti pulled back from Nico’s lips, rolling his eyes at Elia.

“You want to hand over that joint or are you going to commandeer it the whole night?” he asked, plucking it from Elia’s fingers as he leaned across the circle.

“Here’s to Marti,” Gio said, raising his beer. “For a well-deserved birthday. And to Nico, without whom, Marti would still be kissing frogs and looking for a prince.”

Everyone cheersed and drank, and Marti felt a warm glow that had nothing to do with the weed or the beer as they settled back and Nico pressed an easy kiss to his cheek.

Definitely better than a party, he thought. Definitely.


	5. Niccolo Shows Up at the Lake Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take (before the clip came out) of Nico and Marti's reunion.

Nico stands in front of him, looking small, hair wind-swept as though he walked all the way from the train station, and he probably did. 

Marti’s heart hasn’t stopped thudding since the knock came on the door and he’d peered out the darkened window to see Nico on the porch. It hasn’t stopped its panicked beating as he practically shoved his friends out the back door to cries of, “But where are we supposed to go?”

“Sleep on the beach. I don’t care!” Martino had hissed, pushing them into the kitchen, out of sight of the front door.

“It’s my house,” Gio complained, but Marti wasn’t even listening, tossing Gio’s shoes after him. “You so owe me, Marti!”

“Just go!”

Martino can’t believe Nico’s here. That he took a train all the way up there. He’d thought, when Nico hadn’t responded to his last text, over an hour ago, that that was that. It was over and Nico was never going to break up with Maddalena. He’d been stupid to hope.

But Nico stands on the porch when Martino finally opens the door, swallows down the lump in his throat.

Niccolò looks small in the moonlight, biting his lower lip as though trying to think what to say. His cheeks are flushed from the chill wind, hands stuffed in his pockets, not reaching for Marti like he might have any other time.

Martino knows what he wants Niccolò to say. He wants him to say that he’s an idiot for everything he’s put him through, for telling Marti that he wanted to be with him and then kissing his girlfriend the next day. He wants Nico to beg and grovel for forgiveness.

But he also wants to pull Nico to him, wrap his arms around him, and kiss the living daylights out of his perfect mouth, to smooth the crease in his brow as his heart aches, as though he just can’t stay mad. He hates that he can’t stay mad at Nico because he wants to be. He wants to be mad and upset and he knows they should talk about it. But, God, he just wants to feel Nico against him one more time.

“Ciao,” Nico says finally, soft, tentative, as though he isn’t sure he should be there, if Marti wants him there.

Martino swallows. He should say something, something about how hurt he’s been the last few weeks, how he hates that Nico has done this to him. But he doesn’t hate it. He doesn’t hate Nico.

He isn’t sure who moves first, but it’s hands and lips and tongues, and he melts, melts into Nico, like this is where he belongs. They stumble back, inside the door, and Martino gets his hands in Nico’s hair, gripping the soft curls, and he feels Niccolò’s smile against his mouth, and he pulls back, just for a second, just to let their foreheads rest against each other for a second.

The last few weeks have been awful, between the fight with his friends and the confusion over Nico, but here, right now, this is all he wants.

He smiles as Nico leans in again and Martino kisses him, desperate, hard, shoving at his jacket, fumbling with his own, and as they get their shirts off, left in a pile on the floor, Marti figures they can talk about everything later.


	6. Marti & Nico Visit Milan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another 'before' fic, an alternate visit to Milano for the boys.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the cobblestones, and Martino smiled as Nico peered in the windows they passed, as though he was actually looking for something and they hadn’t been strolling past shops for over an hour.

“What are we doing here?” Martino asked as they passed a window filled with jewelry. The street was fairly busy but thinning as the sun went down behind them.

Niccolò smiled at him, soft and sweet, in that way that made Martino’s heart clench.

“We’re here to get you some new clothes,” Nico said simply, reaching for Martino’s hand, brushing their fingers together, tingling against his skin, not but taking his hand. There were too many people around, and Martino let out a breath as Nico took his hand back.

“But did we have to come all the way to Milan?” It had been a long train ride, not that Marti had been complaining with Nico’s fingers playing an unknown melody on his thigh the whole way.

Fancy stores loomed up around them, probably far beyond Martino’s price range. They hadn’t actually gone in a store since they’d arrived, wandering around the town center instead. The cathedral loomed up before them, spirals twisting towards the sky, people criss-crossing the plaza in every direction.

“In Milan, they have clothes that are not blue,” Nico replied, nudging Martino playfully, and Martino couldn’t help laughing. 

“I have clothes that aren’t blue,” he said, and Nico shook his head.

“I’ve yet to see any,” he said, glancing around for a second before tugging Martino back, down an alley cast in shadow. “Honestly, I’d rather see you out of your clothes.”

Martino grinned as Nico leaned in and kissed him, a little too smoldering considering they were out in public.

“Ni,” he murmured, practically falling into him, like Nico had his own gravity, pulling Martino to him.

His hands were anchored in Niccolò’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric to keep himself grounded as Nico licked inside his mouth, dragging his lips over Martino’s, too dirty, too much, and Martino had to pull away, checking that no one was around.

Swallowing thickly, he took a breath and wrinkled his nose at Niccolò. 

“You can’t do that,” he said, unable to stop himself from leaning back into Nico, their foreheads resting together. This close, he could see every nearly invisible freckle on his nose, every curve to his face, and he wanted to trace Nico’s lips with his fingers and then his tongue. His eyes grazed over the minuscule bump in Nico’s nose, the individual hairs of his eyebrows, following the way the corners of Nico’s mouth lifted in a smile.

“Do what?” Nico asked, letting his lips graze over Martino’s jaw, keeping his eyes on the entrance to the alley.

Marti’s heart skipped a beat and his hand slid to Nico’s back. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop if Nico started, and he swallowed down the heat rising on his skin as Nico’s mouth moved down his neck.

“That, you can’t do that,” he said in a breath, licking his lips, and trying to focus.

“Should I stop?” Nico asked, whispering the words in Martino’s ear, and Marti never wanted Nico to stop.

Martino’s hands clenched in Nico’s shirt as he let out a shaky breath as Nico dragged his nose over his cheek, their mouths meeting for a kiss that made Martino’s body throb, melting into Nico, Nico’s hands on the back of his neck, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin under his ears.

“I thought we were shopping,” Martino managed to ask when Niccolò pulled away, lips tingling, head light.

Nico exhaled slowly, nodding against Martino’s forehead, his long fingers falling down Martino’s neck.

“We should do that,” he said, and Martino almost wished he hadn’t said anything as Nico stepped away, back towards the street, but Nico glanced back at him, grinning. “Then after, we can get you out of those clothes.”

Ducking his head, Martino grinned, joining Nico at the alley entrance and stepping into the setting sun, leaving the shadows behind.


	7. Nico Meets the Boy Squad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Before' take. Niccolo meets the boys.

Martino had told him to meet him after class, had told Nico to come to the courtyard, and somehow, Nico had assumed it would just be Marti. He hadn’t guessed that he would find Martino surrounded by his friends, the loud dark-haired one with the earring, the small mouse-y looking one, and the tall guy with a smile almost as gorgeous as Marti’s.

For a second, Nico hung back. They hadn’t caught sight of him yet, involved in their own conversation, and he almost didn’t want to interrupt. He wasn’t sure what Martino had told them about him exactly, if he’d told them about the last few weeks, the confusion on both their parts, if Martino had actually come out to them.

But Martino had told him to come, and the last time Nico had interrupted Marti with his friends, he’d only gotten a cold greeting in return. Maybe this time would be different.

“Ciao,” he greeted them as he forced his feet to move, to step up to the group. His eyes were on Martino, the way Martino’s smile appeared immediately, and he felt relief wash over him. It wasn’t going to be like last time.

“Ciao,” Marti greeted him, glancing at the boy beside him, the tall one. “Guys, this is Niccolò.”

Two of the boys, the ones on the ends, their eyes seemed to light up immediately, and Nico caught the look they shot each other behind Martino’s back. The short one didn’t seem to get whatever it was the other two did.

“Niccolò,” the tall one said, grinning and reaching out, pulling Nico into an unexpected hug, a thump on his back, and even Martino looked a little surprised as Nico shot him a questioning look. “Finally.”

“What do you mean finally?” Martino asked when the guy let go of Nico.

“I mean, you kick me out of my own house for this guy, I want to meet him,” he said, and Niccolò wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“You didn’t tell us he was so handsome, Marti,” the other guy said, pinching Martino’s cheek as Martino swatted him away, flushing.

“Don’t be an asshole, Elia,” Marti said, eyes flicking to Nico, like he was embarrassed by his friends, but Nico couldn’t help wishing his friends had been more like this when everything had gone down last year.

“Oh, you’re Niccolò!” the short one finally chimed in, eyes going wide.

“Yes, Luchino,” the tall one said, shaking his shoulder. “Always a little behind.” He turned to Nico. “I can’t tell you how good it is to know you’re a real person.”

“Gio.” Martino rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem upset, a permanent smile tugging at his lips that Nico loved to see. He never wanted to see Martino sad again, not after last week.

Gio shrugged good-naturedly, patting Nico’s shoulder as if they’d known each other forever. “Beware, Martino tells me everything, so don’t do anything too freaky.”

“Gio!” Marti said again, shoving him, trying to be mad, and it was adorable.

Nico smiled at the four of them, their little group, so close-knit. He couldn’t believe he’d been worried about meeting them.

“Can’t guarantee that,” he told Gio and Gio laughed. Niccolò glanced at Marti, whose cheeks were pink again, and not from the cold breeze sweeping around them, blowing leaves across the courtyard.

“I, for one, do not want to be told,” Elia said, raising a hand.

Martino scoffed. “If I have to listen to Luchino’s adventures with girls with no clits, then you get to listen to me.”

“Fair enough,” Elia agreed after a second, making a face.

“Do you have class?” Martino asked Nico as they stood there and Nico nodded.

“English.”

“I’ll walk you,” Martino said, stepping out from the boys.

“Oh!” came the catcalls behind him. “So cute!”

“Assholes!” Martino shot back, wrapping a careful hand around the strap of Nico’s book bag. He turned with Nico, their shoulders bumping together as they walked.

“I like your friends,” Nico said as they entered the building, and Martino glanced over at him, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I think they liked you too.”

“How could you tell?” Nico grinned as Martino laughed.

“Just a hunch.”


	8. A Jealous Nico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico gets jealous of a girl flirting with Martino.

Nico knows Marti has had a few beers, a few too beers too many at this party, someone from Marti’s class that Nico doesn’t know, but it’s a _birthday party_ , as Martino had said, which means lots of alcohol and dark corners to sneak away to. They haven’t sneaked away to a corner yet, and Niccolò had gone to find a bottle of water to stop Martino from getting so drunk that he can’t walk home.

When he gets back from his trek around the party, interrupted several times by Gio and then Elia to drunkenly tell him how happy they were he came with Marti, he finds Martino swaying with some girl on the dance floor.

Except it’s not some girl. It’s the girl Marti’s friends call l’Argentina, the girl with smooth blond hair and a tiny waist, the girl who has her hands around Martino’s shoulders and is laughing in his ear.

Nico knows that Martino isn’t interested in girls. He knows that, but as he watches, all he sees is Emma kissing Martino on that couch all those months ago, wishing it were him instead, and he has to get between them.

“Marti,” he shouts over the music, elbowing his way through other couples on the dance floor to reach him, and Martino’s eyes light up as he sees him.

“Hi!” Martino greets him, and Nico catches l’Argentina eyeing him up and down, as if he’s on offer too. He’s not. And neither is Marti.

“I got you some water,” Nico says, leaning into Martino’s ear, shooting a glare at the girl, silently telling her to kindly fuck off. She doesn’t seem to get the message as she bounces to the music, hands still on Martino’s shoulders despite Martino turning away from her to face Nico. “You want to go somewhere else?”

Martino smiles, reaching for Nico’s face, like he just wants to feel his skin. Flashing red lights swirl over Marti’s face, and Nico wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him away from the girl, who arches an eyebrow, almost like a challenge. But Marti is his. They’ve been through enough that one pretty girl isn’t going to take him away.

“I want to go somewhere with you,” Marti says, nuzzling his neck, and he must be pretty drunk to be doing that in public.

“Let’s go then,” Nico says, and the girl reaches for Marti.

“Wait, Marti, we were dancing,” she says in broken Italian, and Nico gets between them before Marti can respond.

“He’s not interested,” he says, firm, annoyed at the way she pouts, like he has no right to say it, but Marti curls into his side, a hand anchored in his shirt, like he needs it to stay upright. “Come on, Marti.”

“Ni,” Marti says as Niccolò leads him through the party and outside where he sits him down on a bench.

“Yeah?” Niccolò asks, unscrewing the water bottle and handing it over.

Martino takes it and leans into Niccolò, closing his eyes as they sit there, a light breeze rustling his hair. Nico brushes his fingers through it, smoothing down the curls that have grown longer since they first met.

Nico knows he shouldn’t be jealous of girls dancing with Marti, or even of guys who sometimes shoot Martino looks that Martino never notices, but he just thinks of all those times Martino was with Emma instead of him, kissing Emma, and maybe it was to make Nico jealous. He doesn’t know. Maybe Martino was trying to prove something all those months ago.

Niccolò glances at Martino when he doesn’t reply, his breathing slow and steady.

“Are you sleeping?” he asks and Martino opens his eyes, straightening up a bit and leaning into Nico instead, fingers on his chin, turning his face.

“I was just thinking,” Martino says, drinking some of the water.

“Thinking what?”

Martino smiles in that way that makes Nico’s heart flutter stupidly. “How glad I am you changed schools last year.”

“I’m glad too,” Nico admitted, smoothing down a stray curl as Martino leaned into his lips, kissing him softly, gentle, the thud of the party muffled behind them. Nico would rather be out here with Martino than in there alone any day.

Martino pulled back, sliding back against the bench and sighing. “And you don’t have to worry about the Argentina,” he said, smiling over at Nico. “She’s not my type.”

Niccolò laughed, only feeling slightly embarrassed as he slid his arm over Martino’s shoulders and leaned against him, content to sit there as the party continued behind them.


	9. The Red Thread Agency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a supernatural agency in Rome that makes sure lovers meet and get close for long enough to fall for each other. Any obstacles to that are handled by the agents, who gently meddle with reality to steer their humans (like having the coin stick in the coffee machine). Two agents are assigned to Martino and Niccolò. Theirs is a 'red thread' case, with the highest priority. But the agents keep making little screw-ups (not delaying Maddi when Martino is having carbonara with Nico, not keeping Renato busy, not stuffing the dumpster by Silvia's house full so they had to walk farther away) that pile up until the red thread almost snaps on Friday night. Now they see both their charges are alone and miserable, and they have to find a way out.

“This is bad,” Pip said, flitting around in a circle, and if he had fingernails, he’d be chewing them right now. “Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.”

“What are you on about, Pip?” Pop buzzed up next to him, about ready to smack the other agent for being so annoying. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten paired with Pip for this mission, but he was going crazy.

“The string!” Pip cried, pointing, up at the thousands of red strings criss-crossing above them. Some hummed gently. Others glowed. But the one Pip was pointing to seemed to be vibrating, pulled so tight it was a second from snapping.

Pop’s eyes widened and he buzzed right up to Pip, shaking his tiny little shoulders. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Pip yelped, wings fluttering madly behind his head. “Who’s the one who didn’t keep that guard busy at the pool?”

“At least I put honey in the fridge instead of forgetting to make Maddalena’s train late!”

“I was overriden!” Pip cried, glowing red with anger. “There was another string on the train.”

Pop didn’t want to hear it. “What are we going to do? If that string breaks, that’s it for them! No fated ending. No way back to each other. And did you forget? We get downgraded to schoolgirl crushes!”

“Not schoolgirl crushes,” Pip moaned, eyes widening fearfully. Schoolgirl crushes took thousands of hours of energy and never had any results. Busy work, that was what it was, and Pop would not be resigned to it. He would fix Niccolò and Martino if it was the last thing he did.

“Pull yourself together, Pip,” Pop said, forcing Pip to stop flitting around in a circle, making him dizzy. He grabbed onto his wing and Pip jerked back. “Maybe it’s not as bad as we think. Maybe the string’s just been up there too long.”

Pip nodded, as though Pop’s words were soothing him. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Pop was not going to be demoted, not because of Pip, and he wasn’t going to lose a red string. He never had before and he wasn’t going to start now.

“Let’s go check first,” he said, calmly, even though he felt like strangling the tiny little agent. Or maybe ripping off a wing. Whichever. “And then we’ll figure it out.”

“Yes, yes, good idea,” Pip said, his nervous fluttering only grating on Pop’s nerves. Next time, he was going to request a different partner.

*

“See?” Pop whispered as he squeezed through the minuscule gap in the window and was nearly knocked off the ledge a second later as Pip came through behind him and practically ran right into him. “He’s fine.”

He gestured down at where Martino sat on the couch, his friends laughing and playing video games around him. Pip buzzed off the window, and Pop followed, fluttering onto the arm rest and peering up at Martino.

“He doesn’t look fine,” Pip said, and Pop frowned at the lines on Martin’s face, the downturn to his mouth.

Martino’s phone pinged, the screen lighting up. Martino yanked it up, too eager, only for his face to fall when he read it.

“Is it him?” Gio asked, turning immediately to Martino, controller loose in his hand.

Martino shook his head, tucking the phone away. “Just a notification.” He sighed, and Pop pressed his hands to his face. This was a disaster. “I told you he wouldn’t. He has a girlfriend.”

“Why isn’t he texting back?” Pop demanded.

“I thought he broke up with Maddalena,” Pip said. “I made her phone die so she couldn’t contact him after the pool.”

Pop turned to him. “Which phone did you turn off?”

“The one that looks like a tiny blue brick.”

“That is Niccolò’s phone, you idiot,” Pop said. “He didn’t text Martino back all weekend.”

“Oh,” Pip said, face falling.

“We have to fix this,” Pop said, grabbing Pip by the arm and hauling him up, back to the windowsill. “We have to go find Niccolò. Come on.” Together, they squeezed out the window and dashed off into the night.

*

They found Niccolò at the train station, rereading Martino’s words on his tiny phone screen.

_I’m at Gio’s aunt’s house. Don’t come here if you don’t want to talk._

“What’s he waiting for?” Pip asked as they stood on the ticket machine, watching Niccolò pace in front of them, as though he wasn’t sure what to do.

“We need a sign,” Pop said, looking around, trying to think. “Oh!” He snapped his fingers and a brochure appeared in his hands, a picture of a beautiful lake on the cover with the words, “Where all your dreams come true” underneath it.

Flitting down, Pop dropped it just behind Nico, darting back up to the machine to watch as Nico turned around, pausing as his eyes fell on the brochure.

Stooping down, Niccolò picked it up, staring at the cover, brows creased.

“Do you think it’s enough?” Pip whispered, clutching at Pop’s wing, and Pop shook him off.

“Have a little faith.” He watched with bated breath as Niccolò stared too long at the paper, and Pop could almost feel the string stretching, tightening. If he didn’t… if Nico chose not to… It was goodbye red strings and hello celebrity crushes and boys with ugly haircuts.

Finally, Nico looked up and stepped swiftly over to the ticket machine, as if he’d made up his mind.

“We need an express,” Pop said, snapping his fingers, and an express train popped up on the screen. “Leaves in four minutes. Perfect.” A train whistle blew in the distance.

“Should we check on the string?” Pip asked as they followed alongside Nico as he ran for the train, sliding in just before the doors shut.

“No,” Pop said firmly, settling in on the seatback behind Nico. “We’re going to see this through.”

*

They followed Niccolò all the way from the train station to the house where Martino was still inside. Through the window, Pop could see the boys lounging around, the table covered in beer bottles.

“Knock!” Pip hissed in Niccolò’s ear, even though Niccolò couldn’t hear him.

Nico hesitated a second before raising a fist and knocking on the door. Pop watched as Martino pushed himself up, staring out the window, his eyes going wide as he caught sight of Martino.

Pop squeezed his way inside as Martino yanked Elia off the couch. 

“You have to leave,” Martino hissed, shoving Elia towards the door. Pop pushed the table aside so that Elia didn’t trip over it and land flat on his face. “Everybody go, now!”

“I want to meet this guy,” Gio said, craning to look out the window, but Martino was already shoving him and Luca towards the back door.

“Please, Gio, just for tonight,” Martino said, pleading with his eyes, and Gio made a face.

“Okay, but you owe me,” he said, and Pop shoved the boys’ shoes toward the back door, stopping the door from slamming shut on Luca’s face and giving him a bloody nose, which would have surely put a damper on the evening.

Panting, Pop flitted back to the window, watching Martino yank his sweatshirt straight and take a deep breath before opening the door.

Pip zoomed inside, grabbing onto Pop’s wing and holding on for dear life. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Shut up!”

Martino and Nico stood in the doorway, neither saying anything for too long, and Pop’s heart began to beat faster, a nervous pounding inside his body. 

“Hi,” Nico said finally, and Martino hesitated. Pop could hear his own heartbeat now, and he didn’t think he’d ever been this nervous with a charge. No one had ever taken this much work before.

He blamed Pip.

“Hi,” Marti said at length and they didn’t move from the doorway.

“Say something else!” Pip whispered, practically vibrating, starting to glow blue.

“What are you doing here?” Martino asked, still frowning, still looking unhappy somehow. Pop didn’t understand it. Nico was there. He’d come all that way.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Nico said, chin falling down but his eyes drifting up, almost hopeful.

Martino nodded. “I did.”

Nico tried for a smile. “I know you know about Maddie. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Martino asked, taking a step closer, and Pop thought his heart might explode from the anxiety these two were causing. Maybe he should have been in the schoolgirl crush division.

Nico raised his head, meeting Martino’s eyes. “For being confusing. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to be with you.”

“What about Maddie?” Martino asked, and Pop shuddered at the tension filling the room. These two were certainly not making his job easy, and neither was Pip, practically crushing his wing.

“Will you let go?” he hissed, pushing at Pip.

“It’s over with Maddie,” Nico said, swallowing. “For good.”

Pop felt the electricity in the air, the crackle, the hum that filled the room two seconds before Martino stepped forward and kissed Nico, dragging him inside, stumbling over the step.

Pop darted forward and pulled Martino’s shoes out of the way as they walked backwards, keeping them from falling. These two were going to be the death of him, or his career. Whichever came first.

“We did it!” Pip cried, bouncing around on the windowsill. Pop let out a breath, deflating slightly and turning from where Niccolò had Martino pinned against the wall.

“We did,” he said, relieved. He knew when they got back, the string would be fine, maybe even humming if they were lucky. And their jobs would be safe for another day. As long as Martino and Niccolò didn’t do anything stupid, their string would be fine, and that was just how it should be.


	10. A Weekend Alone for Marti & Nico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marti and Nico have some fun in an empty house.

When Nico had texted Marti, “My parents are going to Umbria this weekend,” Martino’s first thought had been of that first weekend they had spent together after Halloween night, lazing around in bed, sharing soft kisses, filled with unspoken meaning, fingers tentative as they explored smooth patches of skin in the dim morning light.

It was different now, not Nico’s laugh as he pulled Martino through the door, but the way he pressed Marti up against it as it shut behind him, kissing him long and deep, until Marti shuddered, wrapping his arms around Nico’s neck and chasing his mouth as he pulled back.

“I missed you,” Nico murmured, fingernails scraping over Martino’s neck, and Martino shivered, eyes flicking to Nico’s, a soft smile on his face.

“It’s only been three hours,” he replied, too distracted by Nico’s tongue darting out to wet his lips, Nico’s dark eyes glinting mischievously as they darted down his body, and fuck, Martino had been waiting all day for this. He’d suffered through a whole day of school, listening to Luca go on about how pretty Sylvia was, listening to Elia and Gio teasing him endlessly for his crush, but all Martino had been thinking about was this, getting his hands on Nico.

“Too long,” Nico said, pressing into Marti, hands sliding down his back, tracing the line of skin above his jeans.

Martino was already too far gone to care about semantics, that it had only been three hours since they’d gotten out of school. He just wanted Nico to shut up and kiss him.

So he did. Marti kissed Nico first this time, stumbling backwards, up against the bookcase in the hall. The shelves rattled as Martino got Nico pinned, hands sliding to Nico’s hips, pressing finger-shaped bruises to his skin as he moaned against Nico’s mouth, heat rising on his skin. All the blood in his brain seemed to rush down, a deep throb as he got his hips pressed to Nico’s, hard and wanting all at once.

Nico’s fingers pushed under his shirt, yanking it up, pulling it over Marti’s head and dropping it on the floor. Martino remembered the first time he’d seen Nico without his shirt. It had almost taken his breath away, and it still did as he got Nico’s shirt off, grabbing at the hem, tearing it over his head, mussing his hair.

“Should we…” Nico tried to say, breath already short as he dragged Martino’s mouth to his, the kiss wet and dirty and everything Martino wanted in that moment, licking into Niccolò’s mouth, biting down on his lower lip, tracing his lips with his tongue.

“No, no,” Martino said, quickly, shaking his head, reaching for Niccolò’s ass, feeling Nico’s exhale against his cheek. They had all weekend. For real this time. No one was going to run out and leave a red string treasure hunt behind.

“Marti,” Nico said as Martino mouthed along his jaw, and Nico’s eyes were closed, a hand resting at the back of Martino’s neck, fingers playing with his curls.

Martino loved when Nico said his name, like it was a prayer, in one breath, a sigh on his lips. He’d never imagined he would care so much about how anyone said his name until Nico came along.

“Ni,” he murmured in return, sliding his mouth down Niccolò’s collar bone, sucking marks into his skin as he moved down, down, until he was on his knees with Nico pressed against the bookcase in the front hall, gazing down at him, skin flushed already, eyes dark with want.

Fuck, Marti loved that look, and he loved even more when he pressed a kiss to Nico’s stomach, reaching for the button on his jeans, slipping it open, sliding down the zipper.

The first time he’d tried it, it had been awkward, and he’d found himself with Nico laughing above him. When Martino had frowned at him, Nico had simply hauled him up and done the deed himself with Martino’s fingers gripping the sheets so tightly they’d hurt afterwards.

Nico didn’t laugh this time, licking his lips, letting his head fall back against the books, mouth slightly open as Martino got his jeans down. He let his hands graze over Nico’s thighs as he leaned in, breathing in Nico’s scent, dark and musky, heady in a way that made Martino slightly dizzy with desire.

Nico never closed his eyes for this, for Marti on his knees, leaning in to run his tongue over Nico’s prick, licking and sucking until Nico was panting, his hand tangling in Martino’s hair, whispering encouragements, things that made Martino’s body throb, blood rushing to his skin, flushed and hot as he pulled Nico’s hips to him, swallowing against his dick, mouthing along the ridges as Nico cursed above him.

He was getting close, Marti could tell, from the sharp, shallow breathes he took, how hot his skin was under Marti’s tongue, how his hand moved to Martino’s shoulder, gripping tightly a second before he came.

“Marti, Marti, Marti,” Nico murmured, pushing him back, pulling him up, kissing him hard as Martino melted into him, chasing his tongue, groaning his erection pressing into Nico’s hips, unbearably hard.

“Bedroom?” Nico said when he pulled back from Martino, lips sore and red, breath short, a smile on his lips as Martino nodded, eagerly, biting at Nico’s lips.

“Bedroom,” he agreed as Nico wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him down the hall. A bedroom and a whole weekend ahead of them looked pretty good to Martino.


	11. Nico's Bedsheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Martino brushes Niccolo off in the hall, Nico comes home to find something terrible.

“But obviously I found another way in.” Niccolò smiled at Martino, at the way his lips pulled downward. _Do you want to come with me?_ he almost said, was two seconds away from saying when Martino looked away, down the hall instead.

“I have to go,” Martino said, sharp, abrupt, and Nico bit his tongue as Martino brushed past him and disappeared down the hall.

Staring after, Niccolò’s smile slipped from his face, the one he always pasted on when he felt bad, when Maddie asked if he was okay, if he wanted to go to a party.

He was tired. He was tired of saying yes, everything’s fine. Everything was not fine. Everything was a mess, and now Martino didn’t even want to talk to him. He’d practically bolted out of there. All because Nico had tried to slow things down?

He felt bad enough letting Maddie talk him out of things, saying it was just a phase, just a minor obsession that would pass soon enough, that if he pursued this, it wouldn’t end well for either of them. But Martino didn’t know that. Martino didn’t know about the hours Niccolò spent rereading his texts, stopping himself from writing back, from just spilling all his secrets just so Martino wouldn’t look at him like he just had, like he’d wanted to tell him to stop talking, like he couldn’t stand to listen to him.

Niccolò dragged himself down the hallway, eyes on the scuffed floor, thoughts dizzying, distracting him to the point of not noticing Sylvia flagging him down as he passed the classroom.

“Niccolò!” she said, waving at him as she stepped in front of him, interrupting the downward spiral of his thoughts. “Are you coming to Travestere on Friday? We’re having sushi.”

Niccolò didn’t even know what that meant as he blinked at Sylvia, her overly-eager expression, just trying too damn hard to get people to like her.

“I don’t think I—” he started to say, and she butted in.

“The whole radio group is coming,” she said.

“Even Martino?” Niccolò asked, glancing at her carefully.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “He hasn’t replied to the group chat.”

Niccolò knew full well that Martino had muted that group chat a month ago, but he nodded anyway.

“Maybe,” he said, brushing past her before she could ask anything else, rope him into some other radio project. He was only there in the first place because of Martino, because he’d seen Sana talking to him about it that day in the courtyard.

The weather had turned cold by the time Niccolò got outside and made it home. Cold and damp and grey as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment.

No one was home as he shut the door behind him, kicked off his shoes in a pile where his mom would yell at him later. There was only one place he wanted to be right now, and that was snuggled up in bed, the last place he’d felt happy, with Martino in his arms, foreheads pressed together, noses bumping as they kissed, lips soft and inviting.

Dumping his bag on the floor, Niccolò crawled onto his bed, curling up in the sheets he had adamantly denied Marisol the opportunity to wash since Martino had left. It was unsanitary, she’d said, but he’d insisted, clinging to the memory of waking up next to Martino, the scent of Martino’s hair on his pillow. It had long-since faded, but he couldn’t bring himself to change the sheets.

As he lay there, he reached for the pillow, burying his face in the fabric and inhaling deeply. But something was wrong. It smelled like laundry detergent.

Tearing back the blanket, Niccolò’s heart dropped at the new sheets on the bed, smooth and soft, the corners tucked in neatly.

He had known it would happen, had known Marisol would eventually sneak in new sheets despite his protestations, but that it had to happen today, after Martino had given him that look that nearly broke his heart, as though he didn’t understand why Niccolò was talking to him, why he was trying to smile like everything was fine.

Letting his head fall back on the pillow, Niccolò closed his eyes and sighed. There was no more of Martino left in his life, not on the pillows and not in the hallways, and he didn’t know what to do.


	12. Nico Ignores Marti's Texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico isn't responding to Marti's texts.

Niccolò hates his phone. It’s small and stupid and he can never look up the answers to any tests. But it’s the only thing that keeps him from getting himself in trouble. Well, most of the time.

 _I’m glad you liked the drawing. I put it there during your radio show_.

_I don’t know what’s up with me either. I just know I miss you._

_I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass._

But he doesn’t write any of those things, staring at Martino’s words, lingering on the ‘Ni’ at the end. Anything he says won’t be enough. It won’t be enough to explain why he went back to Maddalena, why he told Martino he wanted to be with him and then let himself overthink everything a day later.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to explain that to Martino, or even if Martino will want to listen. After the brush-off at the radio show the other day, Niccolò is fairly sure Martino doesn’t actually want to talk to him. Except his words are right there on Niccolò’s boxy, dull screen.

It has been days since Niccolò talked to Martino, since Martino gave him that forlorn look in the hallway after Radio Osvaldo, as though he just couldn’t understand what was going on.

All he wants to do is text Martino, _Want to meet up?_ So he can reach out and touch him again, run his fingers through Martino’s hair, trace the lines of his neck as Martino gives him that soft, sweet smile that makes him melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. He wants to get Martino close enough that he can count the freckles on his face, see the peach fuzz on his cheeks, count each eyelash.

Instead, he sits in his living room, Earl Sweatshirt playing on the stereo, but he’s not really listening. He hasn’t been listening for days.

His phone makes a noise, the chime of a text, and his heart skips a beat as he raises it up.

It’s only Maddalena. And his heart returns to normal, if not a little disappointed.

_Are you home? I’m coming over._

Sighing, Niccolò sinks into the couch and doesn’t reply. For once, he doesn’t need to.


	13. Friday Night at the Lake House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another version of the Friday Night reunion at the lake.

Martino should be happy. And he is. Or well, he does feel better, now that everyone knows. Elia, Luca, and Gio. He feels better with all of them sitting around the lake house, playing FIFA and arguing over whether or not Elia is cheating somehow (he maintains that he is NOT but they all know he is). 

But he still doesn’t feel _right_. He’s reread Niccolò’s last note too many times, enough times that the paper has gone smooth when he touches it. It’s dumb, he knows, to still care about Niccolò. After what Filippo said, after all these weeks of confusion, it’s stupid to think that there’s still a chance.

“Hey,” Gio says, nodding at Martino. “You okay over there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Martino assures him, sitting forward, trying to focus on the game, but he knows Gio is watching him. Gio is always watching him, that concerned scrunch to his brow.

“Any news on Niccolò?” he asks after a second, and both Elia and Luca look up from the TV, as if he’s about to say something profound about being gay that they all need to hear.

Marti jerks his shoulders. “He’s never going to break up with his girlfriend,” he says, fingers crinkling the note in his pocket.

“Why not?” Elia demands, shoving Martino’s shoulder. “You’re a catch. He should be begging to get with you.”

Martino smiles, if only because Elia doesn’t get it at all. At least he’s being supportive, which is more than he’d hoped for a few days ago.

“Can’t you just message him?” Luca asks, blinking innocently over at Martino.

“And say what?” Martino scoffs.

“Tell him you guys need to talk,” Gio says simply. “He can’t keep jerking you around like this.”

Martino knows they are just trying to help, but it doesn’t seem like it’ll make a difference.

“It won’t work,” he says, shaking his head. “He never responds.”

“Well, he has a phone,” Elia points out. “So he’ll have to read it. If you don’t do it, I’ll send it.”

“No, no,” Martino says quickly, leaning away from Elia’s grabby hands. Heaven knows what Elia would send.

Taking out his phone, he pulls up Niccolò’s messages, the last one from days ago, another he hadn’t responded to. It’s hopeless, Martino thinks.

“Just say something like, I’m tired of you being an asshole. Call me when you’re serious,” Gio says, arching his eyebrows at Martino, who takes a breath and types in the words, although he knows it’s pointless. Niccolò is not going to write back. His words are just going out into the void, where all his feelings go.

“Okay, there,” he says, setting the phone down and letting out a breath.

His heart nearly explodes as his phone pings a second later. All eyes are on him as he turns it over, the screen lighting up.

“‘Can we talk?’” he reads, glancing up at the boys. “What do I say?”

Gio and Elia exchange a look, and Martino’s heart beats faster, as if the words on the screen mean something more than they do.

“Don’t answer that. Just tell him you’re hanging out with your friends. That’ll make him want to talk to you more.”

“Okay,” Martino says slowly as he types it in, his fingers tripping over the keys.

It takes a few minutes this time, but Niccolò’s messages pops up on the screen.

_Where are you?_

Martino stares at the words. “He wants to know where I am.”

“Be vague,” Elia says confidently. “Just say you’re at Lake Bracciano.”

“Are you sure?” Martino asks, and Elia jerks his shoulders. Gio doesn’t disagree, so Martino’s brings up his phone and types as he talks. “‘At Gio’s house on Lake Bracciano.’” He glances up. “Anything else?”

“Tell him to call you,” Gio says.

Martino nods, typing it in and sending it. He waits, but nothing else comes. For a moment, time seems suspended, everyone watching his phone, as though willing it to ring. But it doesn’t, and Martino sinks back into the couch.

“I told you,” he says as he tucks the phone away, and Gio sighs, sitting back in his chair.

“Hey, he’s not worth it if he won’t even give you the time of day for a phone call,” Gio assures him, and Elia grabs Martino’s shoulder, shaking it firmly.

“I say screw him. Let’s play some FIFA.”

Martino allows himself a small smile as they unpause the game and get back to playing. He supposes he just had too much hope in something that will never happen.


	14. Nico Is Outed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Maddie and Emma spread the rumor.

Niccolò is used to the whispering, the lingering looks, but not from these people. Not from his classmates of only a few months, not from people who don’t know why he transfered, why he’s behind a year.

Sitting in class, Niccolò glances around, ill at eased by this new development that seems mostly directed at him. Has he done something? Something strange that he didn’t realize? It’s possible. When he’s on a high, he doesn’t always think, sometimes just acts, and it gets him in trouble.

He feels fine, though, completely normal except for the constant ache in his chest whenever he thinks about Martino and everything that’s going on—or not going on—there. 

“Hey, Fares,” Marco Covitti barks at him as class lets out and people hurry to escape for break. Niccolò turns. “Why don’t you and your boyfriend fuck off before you hurt my sister anymore.”

“What?” Niccolò stares, confused. Boyfriend? Covitti steps up to him, a good few inches taller and wider, though it may just be his puffy coat.

“You think I don’t know what you and Rametta are doing when you leave my sister alone at parties?”

Niccolò isn’t sure he’s supposed to answer that, and honestly, he can’t because all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears, heart pounding against his ribcage. How does he know? How does Emma know? Niccolò knows Martino would never tell her. Martino hasn’t even told his own friends judging by the way they’d looked at him that day in the gym.

“I don’t—” he starts to say, but Covitti pokes him in the chest, hard.

“Keep your weirdness to yourself,” he says, voice low, threatening. “And leave my sister out of it.”

Niccolò doesn’t say anything as Covitti sweeps out of the room, too stunned, too confused. So that’s what the whispers are, he thinks, grabbing his bag off the floor. Somehow, everyone knows. It doesn’t make any sense, and all he can feel is panic as he thinks of Martino, the boy who could barely look at him with his friends around, the boy who kissed Emma at a party so no one would suspect. Martino who is having to go through this too, except Martino has probably never been through a scandal like this before. Niccolò has.

How could Covitti have known? Dragging his feet, he leaves the classroom, avoiding the people in the halls, heading for the front door despite how cold it is outside. He just can’t stand to be in there, like the air is suffocating him.

Niccolò has only told one person, and that had been Maddalena. And she would never… or would she?

Pulling out his phone, ignoring the whispers that follow him, Niccolò dials Maddalena’s number, bursting through the front doors and turning away from the school as it rings.

“Colino?” she answers, sounding worried. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class? What’s wrong?”

“Did you tell anyone?” he demands without answering her.

“Tell anyone what?”

Niccolò stops at a bush, glancing behind him, but any classmates are far away. “About Martino.”

There’s a pause, a pause that makes Niccolò’s stomach clench, as if he already knows the answer.

“I told Emma,” she says finally, and he grits his teeth.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“Because she has a right to know,” she says, sounding annoyed know, as if she gets to be the one who’s annoyed. She didn’t just get outed to the entire school. “Martino isn’t being honest with her and I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

“But it’s okay if Marti gets hurt,” Niccolò says, gesturing wildly with his hand even though she can’t see it. “Or me? We have to go to this school, Maddie. Now, I have to listen to people whispering about me all over again. Don’t you see how much that hurts?”

They don’t talk about it much, what happened last year. All Maddie has done is become over-protective, always calling or texting, driving him crazy.

“Colino,” she says, like she’s realizing what she’s done, but Niccolò doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear her excuses or explanations or reasons why he should stay with her. He’s heard it all before. He’s let her talk him into staying before. And he doesn’t know why.

“No.” He cuts her off. “This was way over the line, Maddie. Way too far.”

“Colino, just let me—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” he says sharply. “Please don’t call me back.” He ends the call, punching the little button on the phone and sighing. Slumping against the cold cement wall, Niccolò puts his head in his hands. He can’t believe she did that. Can’t believe she was so reckless, so careless, hadn’t even thought what it might mean, that Emma is not mature enough to keep a secret like this.

Niccolò knows he did this all wrong. He knows that. But he hadn’t meant to hurt Maddalena the first time, but this, she’d meant to hurt him. The buzzer rings for class but Niccolò doesn’t move, staring at the sidewalk. He doesn’t want to go back in and face the whispers, the crude gestures of his classmates, the jokes that are sure to come. Instead, he hoists his bag up on his shoulder. Maybe a coffee first, he thinks, turning down the road, as though that will solve anything.


	15. Martino's Wet Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martino dreams of Niccolo.

“Someone’s gonna see us,” Martino panted as Niccolò kicked the classroom door shut and crowded him up against it.

“No one is going to see us,” Niccolò said with that charming smile of his, crooked at the edges, and Martino was ready to believe him. He would believe anything Niccolò told him right now.

Niccolò’s hands pressed up his sides, fingers ducking under his shirt, and Martino shuddered, arching into Niccolò’s touch, head thudding against the door behind him.

Every brush of Niccolò’s fingers set his skin on fire, like he’d never been touched before. His hands found their way into Niccolò’s hair, closing around the curls as Niccolò leaned into him with his whole body, warm and firm, and oh fuck, Martino wasn’t sure his body could handle this, could handle Niccolò’s hands gliding up his stomach, Niccolò’s soft lips so close to his.

Blood throbbed in his veins, and he was so hard, so hard already as Niccolò searched his face, taking far too long, far too much time to take him in.

He just needed to kiss Niccolò, just get his lips on Nico’s, and everything would be right with the world. He knew it would be.

Martino bit back a groan as Niccolò pressed against him, body lithe and firm. It would be embarrassing to come just from this, just from Niccolò’s hips rocking into his, slow but steady, agonizingly hot as they hid in the empty classroom.

“Ni,” Martino breathed, reaching for Niccolò’s shirt, fist curling into his back. Fuck, he wanted this. He wanted it so bad. He hadn’t realized it the first time he’d seen Niccolò across the courtyard, hadn’t realized it when Niccolò had magically appeared in the radio booth opposite him. He hadn’t even realized it that day he’d spent at Niccolò’s house, talking about everything and nothing at all.

“Marti,” Niccolò murmured in his ear, and Martino just about melted right there, knees turning into flan, wobbly and unsteady.

Niccolò’s mouth was too close to his, breaths short as their hips moved, as Martino got closer and closer, and he gripped the back of Niccolò’s neck. He wanted to taste him. He needed to feel Niccolò’s lips against his.

There was a flush on his cheeks as he leaned forward, bumping into Niccolò’s forehead, hesitating a second, waiting for Niccolò’s eyes to flick to his. He felt Niccolò’s breath against his lips, a quick exhale, just as turned on, just as wanting.

Martino moved, inching forward to close the gap, centimeters from Niccolò’s mouth, so close, he could almost feel the gentle pressure of Niccolò’s soft lips.

Bang!

Martino’s eyes shot open, staring at the dark ceiling of his room, taking in air like he’d been running. His lamp was still on, laptop dumped haphazardly to the side.

Out in the hall, he heard a door shut, his mom’s bedroom door, and he let out a breath, rubbing his face and slumping on his bed. It had just been a dream.

A very realistic dream, he realized as he felt the pressure in his dick, hard in real life too. It had been years since he’d had a wet dream, if you could even call it that. He supposed sex dream was the better term now that he was older.

He wasn’t going to jerk off thinking about Niccolò, he told himself firmly. He had never done it when he’d had dreams about Gio. Although the ones with Gio had never been so intense, so real. It had felt like Niccolò really was there. Martino could feel the softness of his hair, the heat coming off his body.

Rolling onto his side, Martino squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away his erection. He’d always known, deep down, that Gio would never like him the same way, that he never had a shot, especially with Eva, but until now, until Niccolò had come along, he’d still harbored some tiny hope that it might happen.

He had never jerked off to thoughts of Gio, but, he thought as he slid his hand down, under his pajama pants, Niccolò was a different story.

*

“Two sugars,” Gio piped in unhelpfully as Martino lost the game to Elia and went to get coffee in the hall. When it ate his change, he banged on the machine, annoyed.

“What are you going as?”

Martino looked up at Niccolò’s voice, somehow surprised, and his stomach lurched as he remembered the night before, jerking off to Niccolò’s face, the way he was smiling at Martino right now, leaning casually against the wall.

“What?” he asked, managing to at least sound marginally normal, like he hadn’t just been picturing Niccolò with his shirt off.

“Halloween Party Night,” Niccolò said, nodding at the poster on the wall, as Martino stared dumbly at him.

“Actually, I don’t think I’m going,” he said, and Niccolò’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“Why not? We can go together if you want.”

Martino’s heart skipped a beat as Niccolò smiled at him.

“Okay,” he said before he could really think about it. It was like he just couldn’t say no to Niccolò, and he didn’t want to.

“Okay?” Niccolò prodded him a little, like he didn’t quite believe him.

“Okay,” Martino said again, unable to hide his smile, especially when Niccolò grinned and straightened up. 

“Okay.” He hit the button on the machine and a coin fell into the slot as he brushed past Martino. “I have to go. English test.”

Martino stared after him, heart beating fast, a dumb smile on his face. He was most definitely fucked.


	16. Nicotino O Holy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A take on the Holy Night scene coming up.

_I’m sorry. I should have told you but I was afraid._

Martino reread the words on his screen, phone clutched in his icy fingers as he stood outside. Through the window, the tree was lit up with sparkling lights, a warm glow spilling onto the street as Martino hesitated.

He’d agreed to come, to spend a holiday evening with his dad and his dad’s new family. Through the window, he watched a kid come out from another room, setting something on the table before noticing him outside.

A smile, unbidden, came to Martino’s lips as the boy moved over and pressed his hand to the window. Maybe, he thought, as he watched the boy, his dad’s new family, maybe he could get through this. He’d survived everything in his life up to that point. He could survive this too.

Moving to the door, Martino finally rang the buzzer, bracing himself as he stood there, as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Marti!” his dad greeted him, arms open wide, pulling him into a hug, and Martino felt something break inside him, like a dam crumbling, a rush of air as he wrapped his arms around his dad, and just for a second, let himself admit how much he’d missed him.

His phone vibrated again as his dad ushered him inside, out of the cold, and Martino pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the line of text that disappeared off the screen.

_You don’t have to be the last man on earth to know what it’s like. Alone in crowded rooms. Alone in your own head. Wandering in the dark. It’s beautiful up here in this place we first met. The first time you smiled at me. The first time I felt something again. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I don’t want to be alone anymore._

His dad was talking, enthusiastic, hands gesturing, but Martino could only hear blood rushing through his ears, heart pounding in his chest, a tear pricking at his eye that he blinked away as he looked up finally.

His mom’s words ran through his head as he greeted Paola.

“Sometimes what I need most is just someone to be there,” she’d said, curled up on his shoulder, carding a hand through his hair. “Maybe Niccolo needs the same.”

He should have been paying attention to whatever Paola was saying, the beautiful dinner laid out on the table. Carbonara.

His stomach lurched as he stared at the dish, silver wear glinting under the Christmas lights.

_I don’t want to be alone anymore._

As Martino stood there, surrounded by warmth, he only felt cold, fear gripping him as Nico’s text ran through his mind.

Alone.

Martino didn’t know how he got out of there, how he made any excuses that made any sense. He just knew he had to get out of there, get to Nico.

Thank God for Chicco Rodi.

Martino sprinted up the stairs to the school, heart racing. What if he was too late? What if Nico had done something? He felt only cold fear as he hauled himself up over the gate, bursting onto the terrace.

The city spread out before him, lights twinkling in the darkness, an icy breeze darting down his back and he shivered, searching frantically, but there was no one there. Everything seemed to go silent, the whole world. The terrace was empty, and Martino moved to the edge, staring down as fear gripped him. What if Nico…

He saw nothing but darkness, heart racing with panic. Where could he be?

Slumping against the railing, Martino let out a shaky breath. He’d screwed everything up. He’d let Nico think he didn’t care, and now Niccolo was God knew where.

A noise, soft and distant, caught Martino’s ear and he looked up. Piano music coming from inside, from the speakers. He knew the song, the melody, as he followed the sound inside. He’d watched Nico play it too many times on Youtube, on repeat those days when he lay in bed feeling sorry for himself, hating his life, wishing he had some magical solution to fix everything, missing Nico.

Down the stairs, Martino followed the sound, like it was somehow leading him where he needed to go, through the halls, to the radio room with its egg carton walls. As he stepped into the hallway, his heart nearly stopped at Niccolo coming out of the room, head down, feet dragging.

Martino swallowed, everything he wanted to say welling up in his throat. Sadness and pain and relief all at once as he stepped towards Nico and Nico lifted his head, a moment of hesitation, as though he wasn’t sure Martino was really there.

Martino never wanted him to think that, never again, and he reached for Nico, drawing him into a hug, tight, like he was never going to let go. He exhaled slowly, a weight coming off his shoulders, as Nico slipped his arms around him in return and buried his face in his neck.

He seemed so small in that moment, in Martino’s arms, standing in the dimly lit hallway, music drifting over them.

Nico didn’t smile as Martino moved back, just so their foreheads could rest together, breath intermingling in the chilly air, and Martino stared into Nico’s eyes.

“I’m here,” he said softly, hands tight on Niccolo’s shoulders, as if Nico might disappear if he let go. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to Nico’s lips, gentle, careful, reassuring. “I’m here.”

He felt the breath Nico let out, like he’d been holding it in for days, felt him shuffle closer, like he just needed to feel Martino, the hold onto him, and as the music faded behind them, Martino pulled him close and held on. He’d never let go again.


	17. Nicotino's First Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first fight.

“Hey.” Niccolò nudged Martino. “You’re missing it.”

Martini glanced up from his phone for a brief second, at the computer screen and the movie that was playing. He hadn’t been paying much attention with his phone vibrating every two seconds.

“I see it,” he muttered, going back to the chat where Luca was agonizing over how to ask Sylvia out on a date. 

He heard Niccolò sigh, almost a huff. “Come on, Marti, you’re not paying attention.”

“I am, I am,” he assured Niccolò, tossing the phone on the bed and leaning into Niccolò, trying to focus on the movie, but he had no idea what was going on in the plot.

Martino didn’t always understand Niccolò’s taste in movies and this one was no different, and he reached for his phone immediately as it chimed again. 

_What should I write???_ Luca sent, desperate tone obvious even though a message.

 _Just send a dick pic_ , Elia responded and Martino rolled his eyes.

 _Don’t listen to Elia_ , he wrote, feeling Niccolò shift next to him.

 _Because you were so good at it,_ Elia’s message said.

“Will you stop messing with your phone for just a minute?” Niccolò asked. “You’re missing the whole movie.”

Martino didn’t get why it was such a big deal. It wasn’t that great of a movie anyway, what he’d managed to see of it.

“Just rewind it,” he said with a shrug, smiling as Luca responded with a line of panicked emojis.

Niccolò didn’t rewind the movie, but he did pause it. Martino wasn’t really paying attention, more preoccupied with Gio’s suggestion that Luca try to play it cool, if that was even possible for him. That was no way to get a girl. Martino had tried that with Niccolò and it only ended up with him confused all the time.

“You’re always on your phone,” Niccolò said, reaching over and trying to pluck it from Martino’s hand, but Martino frowned, pulling it away.

“I am not,” he argued. “I’m just trying to stop Luca from doing something stupid and embarrassing himself.”

“Well, I’d like you to watch the movie,” Niccolò said, a hint of annoyance in his tone that Martino rarely heard. “Can’t you respond to your friends later?”

Setting down his phone, Martino turned to Niccolò, frowning at the crease in his brow. It wasn’t a big deal, and honestly, he wasn’t really interested in the movie in the first place. “What are you so mad about?”

“I’m not mad,” Niccolò replied, and Martino pursed his lips together, doubtful.

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a movie.” He and Niccolò had watched tons of movies together. They spent nearly every Sunday evening watching movies, curled up together in Niccolò’s room, making fun of the characters and sometimes not even bothering to watch, instead making out while it played in the background.

“You’re not paying attention,” Niccolò said, pushing himself back against the headboard, and Martino didn’t know why it mattered. He was just trying to prevent a catastrophe on Luca’s part. Luca had been crushing on Sylvia for months, and he probably only had one shot to make this happen. “Surely Luca can handle this on his own.”

Martino raised an eyebrow. “Have you met him?”

His phone chimed again and Niccolò shot it a dirty look, as if it had personally offended him. Martino didn’t get it.

“Seriously, Marti,” Niccolò said as Martino read the messages. “Put it away.”

Martino made a face, pulling up his keyboard. “You know, maybe if you had a phone from this century, we could add you to the group chat and you wouldn’t be complaining so much.”

Martino typed in his response to Luca’s desperate plea for help, and he didn’t notice the silence behind him until he hit send and looked up.

Niccolò sat against the headboard, arms crossed, not looking at Martino, eyes on the paused movie. Sighing, Martino shot him a look. It was a dumb thing to argue about, his phone, the movie. He wasn’t even sure why they were fighting about it.

“Ni,” he said when Niccolò said nothing, didn’t even move except to blink. Was he seriously mad about this? Shit. Were they having a real fight? “Niccolò?”

He and Niccolò had never actually fought about anything beyond disagreeing over Niccolò’s cooking skills (Martino still maintained he had none). He wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen Niccolò mad, but the way his shoulders were tense, squared, the way he didn’t look at Martino seemed to indicate he was.

“I had a smartphone,” Niccolò said finally. “And I had Instagram and Facebook and WhatsApp. And all they brought me were problems.”

Martino had never really thought about why Niccolò had the most useless phone known to man except perhaps to be quirky, like he was about everything else.

“So I shouldn’t text my friends?” Martino said without thinking, watching Niccolò shoulders droop on an exhale.

“Do you really think that’s what I meant?”

“I don’t know what you mean because you’re not telling me,” Martino said, scooting up to sit next to Niccolò.

Niccolò turned his head to watch Martino, a downturn to the edges of his mouth, eyes tired. “I just want to watch this movie with you, Marti,” he said simply. “And it feels like you don’t care.”

“I do care,” Martino insisted as his phone chimed again and Niccolò sighed. “It’s just, it’s kind of a boring movie and Luca needs all the help he can get.”

“The first time I spiralled, this movie was the only thing that got me through,” Niccolò said quietly, and Martino felt a sharp stab in the gut.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Niccolò shrugged. “I wanted you to like it on your own.”

Martino felt like an ass, and he turned to face Niccolò. “Why don’t we start it over, okay? I promise I’ll pay attention.”

“No, go help your friends,” Niccolò said, rolling off the bed despite Martino reaching for his arm.

“Hey, stop, come back here,” Martino said quickly, crawling off the bed and catching Niccolò at the end. Holding up his phone, he put it on silent. “There. Luca has Elia and Gio. Between the two of them, they’ll get him figured out. Come on, Ni. I want to see this movie. Maybe you’ll just have to explain it to me.”

Niccolò looked doubtful, and Martino took his hand, pulling him gently back towards the bed.

“We shouldn’t fight about dumb shit like this,” he said as he nudged Niccolò back on the bed and settled in between his legs, leaning back against him as he dragged the laptop on top of a pillow. “If we’re going to fight, it should be about who hogs the covers and who’s hotter.”

He felt Niccolò’s smile against his cheek, brief, soft. “You are.”

“No, you are,” Martino assured him, tilting his head back for a kiss and letting out a breath of relief that he hadn’t just screwed everything up. “So tell me what the hell this movie is about exactly.”

As the movie played, Martino ignored his phone buzzing in his pocket, smiling as Niccolò murmured in his ear, hands wrapped around his chest. They’d survived their first fight, and he was pretty sure they’d survive the next one, when or if it ever came along.


	18. Martino Meets Nico's Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obvs not how it happened, but a 'before' take on meeting the parents.

When Niccolò had told his parents he’d broken up with Maddalena, they hadn’t seemed too surprised. His dad had merely shrugged, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “There are plenty more fish in the sea.”

Then Niccolò had told them about Martino, they’d seemed a bit more surprised, though he thought maybe it was because of how quickly everything had happened. It hadn’t felt fast at the time, all those agonizing weeks of not talking to Martino, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do, not sure how to break up with Maddie properly. Or maybe it was simply because Martino wasn’t a girl.

They hadn’t said anything about that, though, only exchanged a surprised look and smiled back at him. 

“So when are you going to bring him over for dinner?” they’d asked weeks later, after Niccolò had spent a good few days recovering at Martino’s place, when he was finally feeling back to normal. Niccolò blanched slightly when they asked, surprised and not necessarily wanting them to meet Martino, fearful that might break them out of their temporary cocoon of happiness.

“My parents want to meet you,” he told Martino over glasses of mulled wine at Sylvia’s Christmas party.

Martino’s eyebrows had gone up, reticent. “That’s not going to be weird?”

“I told you,” Niccolò said, leaning into Martino’s forehead, taking the opportunity of the empty kitchen to pull him in closer. “They’re going to love you.”

Martino’s smile lit up the room, and Niccolò bit back the nerves surfacing. Not that it would be weird. It just might be awkward.

Still, that hadn’t stopped his parents from preparing a dinner and forcing Niccolò to pick a day to invite Martino over. Deep down, he knew everything would be fine, but so far, not much had gone smoothly where Martino was concerned. So when Martino rang the buzzer, Niccolò hurried to the door to let him in, shielding his parents from Martino as Martino stepped inside, shrugging off his coat, and only looking half as nervous as Niccolò felt.

“Is this him?” Niccolò’s mom said, eager, stepping up and taking Martino’s hand.

“Hello,” Martino greeted her, a nervous smile taking over his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fares.”

“Come in, come in,” she said, ushering Martino out of the doorway and taking his coat. “It’s too cold out to stand in doorways. Nico, go help your father with the table.”

Niccolò was hesitant to leave Martino with his mother, often over-exuberant on a normal day.

“If you leave now, you can avoid answering a million questions,” Niccolò muttered in Martino’s ear as his mother put away the coat. “Go, run, save yourself.”

“It’s fine, Ni,” Martino assured him, reaching for his elbow, a gentle pressure. “I’ve met parents before.”

“Not my parents,” Niccolò replied, but he figured there was no way to stop this evening, so they might as well get through it. Martino followed him to the kitchen, lingering at the table where his dad was setting out the food.

“You must be Martino,” his dad said, shaking his hand firmly. “We’ve heard almost nothing about you.” He shot a look at Niccolò, who flashed him a smile. There’d been a reason for that. His parents always wanted to know too much, were always just a little bit too concerned about what was going on in his life. And he understood. Of course he did. When he had his little “episodes” as they called them, they needed to know what was going on. Still, he’d wanted to keep Marti to himself for a little while longer.

“I hope that doesn’t mean anything bad,” Martino joked, but he glanced at Niccolò and Niccolò shook his head quickly.

‘Of course not,” he assured him, not hesitating to reach out and take Martino’s hand. He felt Martino freeze up for a second, uncomfortable, nervous, but his dad didn’t even seem to notice.

“I hope you like Carbonara,” he said, unveiling the dish.

Niccolò had to hold back his laughter at Martino’s face, his bit back smile as he shot a look at Niccolò.

“As long as Ni didn’t cook it,” he said, and his dad didn’t seem to understand, glancing at Niccolò, who merely shrugged in response.

“Why are we all standing?” His mom returned from putting away the coat. “Martino, would you like some wine?”

“I’m fine with water,” Martino said, and Niccolò smiled at how polite he was. He hadn’t been wrong about his parents loving Martino. How could anyone not?

“So, Martino,” his mom said once they were all seated at the table. “What are your plans after you finish school?”

“Mom,” Niccolò said. She could have at least started out with an easier question.

“It’s a normal question,” she said, waving her hand dismissively and depositing a large spoonful of pasta on his plate. “But I suppose he’ll give me a vague answer like you always do.”

Under the table, Niccolò squeezed Martino’s hand.

“I don’t really know yet,” Martino said, glancing at Niccolò for reassurance. “University, I suppose.”

“Let’s talk about something less boring,” Niccolò said easily. “Like the bus strikes.”

“If you think that’s more interesting, you are not my son,” his dad said, pouring himself more wine. “Although they did make me thirty minutes late this morning.”

As his dad went on, Niccolò smiled at Martino, and Martino leaned over to his ear.

“You know, eventually, they’re gonna get to the hard questions, like how we got together, and I don’t think traffic will work as a distraction.”

Niccolò laughed quietly, moving Martino’s hand into his lap. “We’ll eat that dinner when we come to it.”

Leaning back, there was a smile on Martino’s face as he listened to Niccolò’s dad’s story about his morning commute, and Niccolò merely watched Martino and couldn’t help thinking how fucking lucky he was.

“What?” he asked as he caught his mom smiling at him across the table.

“Nothing,” she said, picking up her fork. “Marti, do you cook at all?”  
At least it wasn’t a hard question, and Niccolò sat back as Martino answered her, eager and excited, and that was how Niccolò liked to see him.


	19. The Boy Squad Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys come back to the lake house after leaving Martino with Nico.

The light in the window is still on when Gio pushes open the cabin door, sticking his head inside, ignoring Luca complaining of being cold. If he’s so cold, why doesn’t he put a freaking jacket on? 

Gio steps inside, careful to be quiet for once in his life, checking the living room. It’s empty but for the fire that has burned down to only a pulsing glow of coals. 

“Careful, Luchi,” he warns as Luca stumbles inside after him and Elia shoves his way through the door. 

There’s still a car outside, parked haphazardly out front, and Gio knows Marti is not alone in here. 

Everything is silent, though, as they file in, tired and a little buzzed from drinks in town. There hadn’t been as many girls as Gio had promised Luca, but it had been far more important to give Marti some time alone with Niccolò.

“Gio,” Elia hisses as he stops at the bedroom door, nodding at a jacket tossed on the floor. Elia grins and Gio tries not to laugh. _Good boy, Marti._

“Where are we gonna sleep?” Luca asks as he gazes at the closed door. 

Elia and Gio catch each other’s eyes. 

“I call the couch!” they both say. 

“It’s my house,” Gio points out, pulling blankets from the cupboard and dumping them on the floor. 

“You promised me the bed,” Elia reminds him, eyebrows arching, as though that promise means anything now that Marti and Niccolò are wrapped up in the other room, probably whispering dumb romantic things to each other. Martino is so gone already, Gio can tell. He just hopes he’s not gone too far. 

“The floor will be just as romantic,” he promises Elia, patting his cheek gently. “You can snuggle with Luchino.”

“What?” Luca asks from where he’s got his ear pressed to the bedroom door, as if he wants to hear anything that’s going on in there. 

“Get away from there,” Gio says, cuffing Luca around the ear and dragging him away. He shoves a blanket in his hand. “You should huddle for warmth before you catch your death.”

“That’s the point,” Luca says, but he takes the blanket and sets it up near the fire. 

As Gio settles on the couch, he glances at the door. He just hopes all of this is going to work out for Marti. He deserves that at the very least. 

“Move over,” Elia hisses, shoving Luca next him.   
“The floor is cold.”

“The whole house is cold,” Elia says and Gio smiles to himself, closing his eyes and sighing. They’ll all get through this.


	20. Marti & Nico Hang Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They watch Love Actually and are adorable.

Sometimes Niccolò still can’t believe that this is all real. That he gets to sit next to Martino on Marti’s couch, on the lumpy cushions, smiling at Martino’s socks and his sweatpants, curled up beside him, their hands laced together. He can’t believe that Martino’s mom lets him stay over whenever he wants, as long as they’re _safe, she says with a meaningful glance at Martino that makes Martino groan, cheeks going red, and say, “Mama, stop talking, please.”_

_He can’t believe that Martino leans against him, halfway slumped down the couch, making a face at the TV._

_Niccolò pulls Martino’s hand towards him, turning his palm up so Niccolò can press his lips to the center, soft, gentle. He knows Martino notices because Martino’s eyes flick to him and his mouth twitches._

_Niccolò presses a kiss to each of Martino’s fingers, one by one, until Martino laughs but doesn’t pull his hand away._

_“What are you doing?” Martino asks as Niccolò traces the lines on his hand, down the veins in his wrist, the veins that run to Martino’s heart, Niccolò’s favorite thing about Marti. His heart._

_“Nothing,” Niccolò says, pressing his lips to Martino’s wrist, pausing long enough to feel his pulse, strong and steady._

_“I thought you wanted me to watch this movie,” Martino says, but his eyes aren’t on the screen anymore, watching Niccolò, and Niccolò loves when he does that, when Martino forgets about everything else around them, like Niccolò does all the time._

_It’s so easy to get lost in Marti, in everything that makes Niccolò feel good, but it’s about balance, his therapist says. Recognizing the highs and knowing when to pull back. It’s so easy to get lost._

_“I do,” Niccolò says, pressing their fingers together instead, palm to palm, and Martino smiles._

_“So why are you distracting me?” Martino asks, leaning into Niccolò, silently asking for a kiss that Niccolò is all too willing to give, cupping Martino’s face with his free hand. He loves being able to touch Martino, fingers on his cheek, gripping the back of his neck, pulling him in closer._

_“Not distracting,” Niccolò murmurs, even though he’s the one that suggested they put on Love Actually, so that when Niccolò does actually propose (and he will, some day, he knows it), Martino will understand the reference._

_“Yes,” Martino replies, a smile in his voice, his lips too close to Niccolò’s. “You’re always distracting.”_

_“Is that so?” Niccolò asks, twisting his fingers in Martino’s hair. It’s grown out a bit, curlier, wilder, and Nico loves it. He loves the way it curls around Martino’s ears, the way it brushes the nape of his neck._

_“Mhm,” Martino hums, letting their foreheads rest together. “Why do you think we don’t study together?”_

_“Because I’m a terrible student,” Niccolò replies, smiling at the way Martino laughs._

_“It’s because I never get anything done,” he says, stroking Niccolò’s cheek and leaning into him. “Like, I have no idea what’s happening in this movie.”_

_“Everyone’s in love,” Niccolò says, kissing Martino’s bottom lip. “Mostly.”_

_Martino shakes his head, but he doesn’t pull away. He never pulls away. He always lets Niccolò smooth out his brow, kiss away any concerns, burrow into him after a hard day. And he doesn’t try to fix it. That might be what Niccolò loves the most about Martino. He just listens._

_It hasn’t all been smooth sailing, but Niccolò doesn’t expect it to be. Life would be boring on a placid ocean. And life could never be boring with Martino._

_“So should we pause the movie?” Martino asks as they sit there, not paying any attention to the screen._

_Niccolò smiles, finally unlinking his fingers with Martino’s and sliding his arm around Martino’s shoulders instead, letting his fingers glide down the line of Martino’s neck._

_“Let’s keep watching,” he says, catching Martino’s amused smirk as they lean into each other and turn towards the TV._

_Niccolò doesn’t always believe this is real, that he has someone like Marti, a boy who loves him, but it is real, and he does have Marti, and Niccolò smiles to himself as he settles in next to Martino to finish the movie, pressing a kiss to Martino’s shoulder. Martino’s lips twitch into a smile, but he doesn’t mention it, letting his head fall against Niccolò’s as the movie plays on._


	21. A Scene Ludo Forgot - Nico Saw Martino First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself.

The party was over, the tree lights off and all the beer cans cleared away so Martino’s mom wouldn’t see. Luca had finally vacated the bathroom and Gio and Elia had left after the girls, staying only to make sure any unopened cans of beer were ‘taken care of.’

Martino collapsed on his bed, turning to curl into Niccolò beside him. Niccolò had his eyes closed but he opened them as Martino scooted in closer, close enough so that their knees were touching, and Martino could see the little crinkles at Niccolò’s eyes when he smiled.

“Do you have to go home?” he asked Niccolò, laying his head on the same pillow as Nico.

“Not yet,” Niccolò replied with a soft smile.

Three months ago, Martino would have thought all of this was impossible, lying here with a guy, any guy, let alone Niccolò. He still remembered the first time he’d seen Nico, across the courtyard, all those months ago. His only thought then had been, “Wow. He’s beautiful.”

He couldn’t say he’d been wrong, he thought, as his eyes drifted over Niccolò’s face, down the angle of his nose, the curve of his lips, the minuscule freckles on his cheeks.

“What are you thinking about?” Niccolò asked, reaching out and smoothing a hand over Martino’s cheek, gentle, and Martino smiled.

“Just about the first time I saw you.”

“Was it love at first sight?”

Martino laughed, catching Niccolò’s hand and pressing a kiss to his wrist. “Not exactly, but there was definitely something about you.”

“My winning smile,” Niccolò said, leaning into Martino and kissing him easily.

“Maybe,” Martino agreed, only to get Niccolò to lean in again and continue the kiss.

Martino’s hand slid into Niccolò’s hair as they kissed, snuggling as close as he could, chests pressed together, and he swore he could feel Niccolò’s heartbeat against his, strong and steady, and everything he ever wanted to feel. Nico’s lips were soft against his, a tongue dipping into his mouth, and Martino sighed as Niccolò pulled back, just enough so that their noses brushed together.

“Well, it was love at first sight for me,” Nico said, voice quiet, and Martino raised his gaze to Nico’s.

“Really?”

Niccolò nodded, stroking Martino’s cheek. “It was maybe the second or third day of school, and you were outside with your friends.” He smiled like he was remembering, and Martino tried to think back, but he couldn’t remember. “You were laughing at something, but the minute everyone turned away, it just disappeared, and I knew you understood.”

“Understood what?”

“What it’s like to put on a facade.”

Martino huffed out a tiny sigh, leaning in to press a kiss to the edge of Nico’s lips. “We don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I know,” Niccolò agreed, eyes meeting Martino’s, crinkling as he smiled, and Martino felt his stomach lurch, the same as it had that first time Niccolò had shown up in the radio booth. He wondered if it would always be like this, if he would always get that feeling, as if he’d somehow forgotten how much he liked this boy and had to be reminded every time he did something as insignificant as smile at him.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am you followed me into that radio booth?” Martino asked, sliding his hand over Niccolò’s waist, under the folds of his hoodie.

Nico laughed, smile widening. “No.”

“Well, I am,” Martino said as Niccolò’s hand fell to his shoulder. “I was dying in there.”

“If you ask me,” Niccolò said, nudging at Martino’s nose with his own, leaning in for a kiss, lips brushing against lips, “I’d say you actually like doing the radio.”

Martino wrinkled his nose as Niccolò kissed him again, but he leaned into it despite his groan. 

“Don’t ever tell Sana,” he said as Niccolò laughed against his mouth.

“I think she already knows.”

“Fuck,” Martino said, but he didn’t really care as he kissed Nico, legs tangling together on the bed. It hadn’t been the year he’d expected, but for Christmas, he didn’t think he could have asked for anything better. Settling in with Nico, Martino smiled as Niccolò closed his eyes. They’d get through whatever life threw at them. That, he knew for sure.


	22. Marti Helps Nico Through an Episode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.

When Niccolò doesn’t show up to school, Marti knows it’s one of those days because Niccolò doesn’t pick up when he calls or respond when he texts to ask if he’s sick or his parents have taken him on one of their weekend trips early. He still hasn’t quite figured out how this is all supposed to go, what he’s supposed to do in situations like these.

He doesn’t go to Niccolò’s house, doesn’t barge into his room and ask if he’s okay, trying to give Niccolò space in case he doesn’t want to see Marti right now. After all, he didn’t answer his call which could mean any number of things.

So Martino goes home after school, turning his phone over in his hands as he sits on the bus, stopping himself from texting Nico again and asking, just to be sure, if there’s nothing he needs or wants. He doesn’t want to be like Maddalena, though, constantly hovering around Niccolò.

At his apartment, Martino climbs the stairs, wondering if he should just turn around and go to Niccolò’s house. In the end, he convinces himself that if Niccolò hasn’t responded by tomorrow, he’ll go.

Kicking off his shoes, he heads for his bedroom to drop his bag in the corner, but he freezes as he stands in the doorway, eyes flitting over the Niccolò-shaped lump on his bed.

“Nico?” he asks, careful, confused.

Nico stirs, and Martino can hear his exhale as he steps closer, shucking off his hoodie and climbing carefully on the bed.

“Hi,” Nico greets him, voice rough and gravelly as though maybe he was sleeping, or maybe he wasn’t from the redness of his eyes.

Tucking himself in close, Martino brushes his fingers through Niccolò’s curls. “How did you get in here?”

Niccolò blinks, slowly, like a satisfied cat, tired as his eyes flick to Martino’s, and Marti doesn’t really care how Niccolò ended up in his bed. He wouldn’t mind it if this happened all the time, though he’d much prefer it to happen when Nico was feeling better. Although, he does get some ripple of warmth knowing Niccolò thinks of his bed as a safe place.

“Your mom gave me a key,” Niccolò murmurs, and Martino’s eyebrows go up.

“When?”

“Last time. She said if I needed somewhere to go, I could always come here.”

Martino remembers last time. He remembers every time, but more than that, he remembers all the good things that happen in between. Martino smiles despite the memory, nuzzling into Niccolò’s chin.

“You can,” he says, resting his fingers on Niccolò’s throat, and he can feel the faint beat of his pulse, “always come here.”

Niccolò reaches for Martino, a hand curling into his side, almost clutching at his shirt, and he lets out another heavy breath, like he can’t quite get enough air.  
“But you’ve had that key this whole time and never snuck in after dark?” he asks, hoping for a smile, but Niccolò shakes his head, eyes downcast like he just doesn’t have the energy to look at Marti.

“That’s not what it’s for,” he says, and Martino hums, pressing his forehead to Niccolò’s and closing his eyes as they lay there.  
Even though Martino is still learning what to do, what to say, how to deal with these days, he doesn’t think he would trade time with Niccolò for anything, even on the worst days.  
For a moment, the world is quiet and Martino opens his eyes to watch Niccolò. Niccolò’s eyes are open, dark eyelashes wet from lingering tears, and Martino doesn’t ask what it is that’s got Nico down. Sometimes it’s just unexplainable, a weight on Nico’s chest that Niccolò can’t seem to get rid of, sometimes it’s just something that happened, a trigger he couldn’t expect. Martino can’t fix any of that.

“You want dinner?” Martino asks after a minute, tracing the line of Niccolò’s nose with a finger. “I could make you something.”

Niccolò finally lifts his gaze, his grip tightening on Martino’s side as though Martino might decide to roll off the bed right there and then. Martino finds himself smiling because even if Nico’s in a bad place right now, he’s still Niccolò, the boy who spends his free time drawing giraffes and composing strange celtic piano pieces. He’s still the guy who invited him up to the balcony three minutes after meeting him, the guy who leaves Martino notes in his textbooks just because he can.

“Can we just,” Niccolò says, shifting closer to Martino so they’re pressed chest to chest, warm and soft and sturdy, “stay in here for a while?”

Martino nods easily, brushing Nico’s hair back. “We can stay in here forever,” he promises, relief washing over him as Niccolò nods too, sinking into the pillow and closing his eyes.

Martino closes his eyes too, sighing, content. They can stay in there as long as Niccolò needs. Martino has no plans to go anywhere any time soon.


	23. Gio Comforts Nico at a Party

Sitting alone in a corner at a dark party wasn’t how Niccolò had pictured his Friday night. He wasn’t actually alone—Martino had gone to get drinks or something, and it wasn’t that Niccolò didn’t want to be there with Marti. It was just he wasn’t feeling quite up to everything today. He’d insisted they come, though, when Martino had gotten that look on his face, that minuscule crease in his brow when he’d sensed something was off.

Niccolò knew he shouldn’t pretend for Martino. He knew it was better to just say it, but sometimes, he just wanted Martino to be able to enjoy himself without worrying about Nico.

So Niccolò leaned back in the booth, so reminiscent of that booth he’d sat in with Maddalena all those months ago, wishing it was Martino there instead.

“Hey.” Gio dropped down beside him, setting a beer on the table. “What’s going on?”

Niccolò glanced at him, at the easy way Gio settled into the bench, and he wondered why he wasn’t off flirting with some girl. Niccolò wasn’t exactly the best company at the moment.

“Nothing,” Niccolò replied, shrugging. His beer can was empty but he was quickly losing interest to drink more.

He never quite knew what triggered it sometimes, the unexplainable sadness that crept up on him out of nowhere, exhausting his body and his mind, sending his thoughts into overdrive, coming up with a million scenarios he knew wouldn’t happen, but that didn’t stop his brain from thinking them.

“Nothing?” Gio repeated, eyebrows rising as he gazed at Niccolò, and Niccolò put on a smile, so easy to lie still. He just didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of it.

“Just tired, that’s all,” he said, looking away from Gio, out into the crowd. He caught sight of Marti, waylaid by Luca and Elia. He watched Martino’s face light up in a smile at whatever they said, laughing, clutching two cans of beer to his chest.

“You gonna head out?” Gio asked, following his sight line to Martino.

Niccolò shook his head. “Marti’s having a good time.”

“Marti would go anywhere with you,” Gio said, catching Niccolò’s attention.

It was true. Martino would leave in a second if Niccolò said he wasn’t feeling well, if he said he was tired, couldn’t stand the thud of the music any longer, but Niccolò didn’t want to be that guy, the guy that prevented Martino from having a good time. Martino deserved it.

Niccolò shook his head at Gio. “He needs a night out,” he said because life wasn’t always easy for Marti with his mom and with him. He never wanted Martino to be sad.

Gio paused a moment, and Niccolò thought he might leave it alone. After all, as much as they were friends, Gio was Marti’s friend first and foremost.  
“You know,” Gio said finally, placing a firm hand on Niccolò’s shoulder. “He can’t say your name without smiling.”

Niccolò turned to watch Martino again, still talking with Elia, Luca acting out some scenario for him, the three of them doubling over in laughter.  
“And he takes a picture of every giraffe thing he sees.”

Niccolò knew that because Martino always showed him later, since his phone could only hold five photos without running out of memory. It always made him smile, just knowing Martino was thinking of him.

Gio squeezed his shoulder gently. “And he’d leave this party in a second if you said you wanted to go.”

Niccolò dropped his gaze from Martino. “I just don’t want him to miss out because of me.”

“If it wasn’t for you, he’d be missing out for sure,” Gio assured him. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to him. Aside from me.” Gio grinned and Niccolò couldn’t help but smile.

Niccolò was glad Martino had someone like Gio in his life. Everyone needed a Gio. Even Niccolò.

“Maybe we can stay a bit longer,” he allowed as Martino finally broke away from Elia and Luchino.

“Sorry,” he said as he slid into the booth, thigh pressed up against Niccolò’s and handing over the beer. “That took longer than I expected.” Martino glanced between Niccolò and Gio, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Everything okay?”

Niccolò nodded, leaning into Martino, stealing a quick kiss in the dim lighting. “Everything’s okay,” he replied, and he shot Gio a smile when Martino turned to the beers, cracking them open. Gio nodded in return, simple, reassuring, and Niccolò knew things would be okay, one way or another.


	24. After the Almost Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico's thoughts after that infamous night by the trash cans.

The cool night air seems to crackle around them, almost as if it can feel the way Niccolò leans in, his pinky still curled around Martino’s. Niccolò’s heart beats faster, caught somewhere between nervous and excited, close enough that he can feel Martino’s nervous breaths, but there’s a curve to Martino’s mouth, almost a smile.

It’s going to happen. Niccolò can feel it, can feel the electricity between them, the tingling in his fingers as he edges in closer.

He’s been thinking about this for days, ever since the afternoon on the balcony, when Emma had so rudely interrupted them and Martino had smiled, secret, when Niccolò had suggested they stay out there. Secretly pleased, Niccolò had thought.

And tonight, with Martino’s eyes on him on the dance floor, deep and intense, Niccolò knew.

The banging of a door makes Martino pause, turn away, and Niccolò curses Silvia’s parents, just for a second. Martino’s finger slides away from his as they watch the people spilling from the apartment, hurrying down the street.

“Come on!” Emma hisses as she runs out with Maddalena, and Martino turns back to Niccolò, sharing a smile, a moment of exhilaration passing between them.

They take off after the girls, and Niccolò follows Martino, through the dark streets, around corners, behind Emma and Maddalena.

He wishes he could grab Martino’s hand, pull him back, into a dark alley, see that brilliant smile again as he leans in and presses their lips together. But he can’t.

And it doesn’t matter, not really, as they finally slow to a stop, the girls laughing and Martino beaming at him, cheeks flushed in the dim street lights. It doesn’t matter because it’s going to happen, sooner or later.

“Want to go to a bar?” Emma asks, attaching herself to Martino, whose eyes haven’t left Niccolò, and Niccolò swallows, a flush unrelated to all the running they’ve just done creeping up the back of his neck.

Martino breaks it first, glancing down at Emma’s hand clutching his arm, and he steps out of her reach.

“I should get home,” he says, eyes flicking to Niccolò. “It’s late.”

“It’s not that late,” Emma protests, but Martino is already stepping away, the same coolness returning as they stand there. Niccolò wonders if it’s an Emma thing or if maybe he’s rethinking things.

“My mom will worry,” Martino says easily. “You guys have fun.”

Niccolò watches Martino turn and head for the main street. It doesn’t really matter, though, Niccolò thinks as he watches Martino until he disappears around the corner. Because it’s going to happen. He can feel it. Deep down. It’s going to happen, and it’s going to be amazing when it does.


	25. Marti & Nico at the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warm summer day with Martino and Nico relaxing at the lake with the boys.

The sun shone down through the trees, warming the sand under Marti’s toes, shadows stretching out over the beach, grasses waving along the shoreline in the breeze coming off the water. For a moment, Martino closed his eyes, basking in the waning warmth of the afternoon glow.

He could hear shouts, laughter, splashing as he leaned back on his hands and let himself enjoy the moment, smiling to himself as he heard Niccolò’s laughter above all the rest.

It was a good day, Martino thought, opening his eyes and gazing out at the lake.

Niccolò and Elia appeared to be ganging up on Luca, tossing him into the water, but Luca wasn’t going without a fight, jumping on Niccolò’s back a second later.  
Sun sparkled off the lake’s surface, but Martino was more distracted by the way the water dripped down Niccolò’s shoulders, even from this distance, trickling down his bare torso, his shorts clinging to his legs. _Damn._

Crossing his ankles, Martino smiled to himself, letting his gaze wander over Nico’s body, from his hair, rapidly drying into tighter curls than usual, his cheeks a little too red from the sun, skin a golden brown from his shoulders to his knees. Niccolò’s smile was wide as he laughed at Luca and Elia play-fighting in the water, hands on his hips, and it didn’t diminish as he glanced over, catching Marti’s eye. 

Martino held Nico’s gaze for a long moment, lips curling into a smile. He wished every day could be like this, with warm summer afternoons that seemed to stretch for eternity, afternoons that turned into long summer nights with Niccolò’s arm around his shoulder as they listened to whatever new catastrophe Luca had gotten himself into with a girl, or Elia’s barely-restrained disbelief at how clueless Luca was, or Gio dragging out his guitar and pretending he knew how to play. 

He wanted every day to be like this. 

“Beer?” Gio appeared behind him, from the cabin, a handful of cold beer in his hands, breaking Martino’s attention on Niccolò in the water. 

Martino took the one Gio handed him as Gio settled in next to him on the blanket, cracking his own open. 

It felt like an age ago that Martino had wanted it to be Gio with his hand around him, Gio pressing a kiss to his cheek like he had with Eva. 

“What are you smiling at?” Gio asked, nudging Martino, and Martino shook his head. He hadn’t even realized. 

“Just thinking how everything’s changed,” he said, looking back at Niccolò. He wouldn’t trade Niccolò for anything. 

Gio laughed, following his gaze. “You can definitely say that.” 

“Did you ever think this would happen?” Martino asked because he hadn’t. He had never thought that one day he would have a boyfriend, would bring him to the lake cabin with all his friends, would get to watch him walk towards him dripping wet. It did something to Martino and he shifted slightly. 

“I knew you’d find somebody some day,” Gio replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Just didn’t know it would be Niccolò.” 

“I didn’t either,” Martino admitted, grinning at Gio’s eye roll. 

“How much does Nico work out anyway? He’s totally ripped.” 

Martino laughed into his beer, glancing up to find Niccolò slogging his way out of the water. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as Martino might have imagined when they’d first met, but the sight was still enough to get Martino’s heart beating faster, swallowing as he followed a drop of water slide down Nico’s stomach and under the waist of his swim shorts. 

“It’s a coping thing,” he said as Niccolò grabbed a towel from the ground, drying off his arms. “Helps keep him busy so his mind doesn’t wander.” Martino was glad Nico had a way to get out his energy, but he was also pretty happy that it gave him chiseled abs, the perfect canvas for Martino’s tongue to trace. 

“You guys having a party without me?” Niccolò asked as he reached them, flopping down on the blanket beside Martino and pulling him into a wet hug. Martino struggled in his grip, but he didn’t really mind, flinching at the cold water on his neck as Niccolò’s hair brushed against him. 

Gio handed over a beer without a word, and Niccolò grinned. 

“I saw you watching me,” Nico murmured in Martino’s ear, his breath tickling Martino’s neck. 

“So?” Martino asked, going for cool, but he couldn’t help leaning into Nico’s warmth. Gio purposefully pretended not to be listening on his other side, eyes focused on Elia and Luca in the distance. 

“So I like when you watch me,” he said, pressing his lips to Martino’s neck, too soft for the tingling heat rising on his skin. 

“You’re pretty hot,” Martino admitted, and Niccolò laughed, eyes crinkling as he gazed at Martino, leaning into him for a kiss, slow and lingering. 

“So are you.” 

“You guys are so cute it’s disgusting,” Gio said, flinching as Niccolò flicked water at him. 

Martino didn’t argue with Gio, leaning against Nico’s shoulder, feeling Nico’s hand snake around his waist. Instead, he sighed, content, and smiled as he let his hand find Nico’s bare thigh, resting lightly there as the sun began to sink behind them and the shadows of the trees finally stretched to touch the water. 


	26. Nico & Marti Get Down (Almost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're having a good time until the boys interrupt.

Martino was hot, too hot, with Niccolò sunk down on top of him, thighs bracketing either side of his legs on the couch, Niccolò’s hands squeezing his hips, Niccolò mouthing his way up Martino’s neck, leaving hot, wet kisses behind, a soft moan in his ear.

Martino couldn’t help closing his eyes, grip tightening over Niccolò’s back even though he knew, _he knew_ they didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t stop Nico. He didn’t want to stop Nico.

“You know what I want to do,” Niccolò murmured, flicking his tongue in Martino’s ear, and Martino made an undignified noise in response, toes curling, blood rushing southward as he clung to Niccolò. He didn’t know what had quite gotten into Nico this afternoon, but from the moment he had arrived, he’d been all over Martino. Not that Martino was complaining.

“Hm?” Martino replied because he couldn’t form actual words right now, not with Niccolò’s hips pushing against his, hot and hard and, oh fuck, they didn’t have time for this. The guys would be over any minute, and all Martino could think of was getting his hand inside Niccolò’s jeans.

“I want to suck you off,” Niccolò said, licking along Martino’s jaw, tilting Martino’s head sideways so he could kiss him, hot and heavy, tongue sweeping in Marti’s mouth as Marti groaned, his heart beating out of his chest already.

“The guys,” he managed to pant in between kisses, in between Niccolò’s hips grinding down, in between tangling his hands in Nico’s hair and pulling Nico’s mouth to his, biting down on his lower lip, smoothing over the mark a second later.

He could feel Niccolò’s smile, a satisfied smirk as though he knew Martino was only protesting out of habit.

“They can wait,” Niccolò replied, slipping his hands under Martino’s shirt, slender fingers grazing up his back, and Martino shivered at the touch, his skin buzzing wherever Nico’s fingers fluttered, too light.

Niccolò wasn’t always soft, not always the sweet, nose-kissing, hand-holding guy that Marti had first fallen for. He could be aggressive, demanding, telling Martino exactly what he wanted, making Martino blush from just a few words whispered in his ear.

And Martino loved it. He loved every side of Niccolò, even the one that was about to get walked in on by his friends, who were supposed to arrive to watch the match any second.

Niccolò’s hands slid down, shifting back so he could trace the line of skin above Martino’s waistband.

“And when you come,” Niccolò murmured in Martino’s ear, and Martino shuddered, already too hard with Niccolò’s hips rocking into him, “I’m gonna lick you clean, until you come all over again.”

“We don’t have time,” Martino said, breathless, though he wished they did. Blood throbbed in his dick, and he closed his eyes, fingers digging into Nico’s sides. If he didn’t get off right now, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

“There’s always time,” Niccolò whispered against his mouth, kissing him long and hard, tongues sweeping together, and Martino swallowed thickly, panting slightly as Niccolò pulled away to mouth at his jaw, suck a mark into his neck that the guys would surely tease him about for the next week.

But there wasn’t time and Martino grimaced at the buzzer, pulling Nico closer, as though that might keep everything out, keep the moment from ending.

“Don’t answer it,” Nico said, and Martino laughed, reluctant, cursing as Niccolò’s mouth drifted down his neck, pulling his shirt down to expose his collarbone instead.

“I have to,” Martino said as it buzzed again, longer, and he groaned.

He didn’t want to, God, he didn’t want to, but Martino pushed Niccolò back, extricating himself from the couch, adjusting his jeans and willing his hard-on to go down as Niccolò sighed behind him. 

Rubbing at his mouth, Martino made his way over to the door, glancing back at Niccolò on the couch. Niccolò’s mouth was red, and his gaze was full of heat as he watched Martino reach for the door. This wasn’t over, Martino knew. It was just beginning.

*

Martino checked his reflection in the mirror by the door, shaking his head as Niccolò disappeared to the bathroom and the door buzzer rang for the third time.

His mouth was slightly red, a flush on the back of his neck, but he couldn’t keep the boys out forever, even if Nico had just had his hand down his pants.

It was only a few minutes later that Martino found himself on the end of the couch as the football match played on the television, the crowd louder than the announcer, Elia and Gio beside him, not leaving much space for anyone else. Luca had taken the one chair on the end, already busy digging into the chips. Niccolò was still in the bathroom, probably _taking care of things._ Martino had not been so lucky, forced to adjust his seating position every few minutes as he tried to think of things to make it go away.

He blamed Niccolò completely.

Gio glanced at him as Martino shifted again, out of the way of Elia’s flailing hands.

“You okay, bro?” he asked, and Martino nodded quickly.

“Fine,” he said, looking up sharply as Niccolò stepped back into the living room.

“Hey, guys,” Nico greeted them all, fist-bumping with Gio and surveying the seating arrangements. His eyes fell on Martino and a smirk grew on his face. “There’s no room left. Guess I’ll just have to sit with you, Marti.”

Martino’s eyes widened. He couldn’t have Nico on his lap, not right now when he was already two seconds away from an embarrassing position.

“I could get a chair from the kitchen,” he said, halfway to standing before Elia pulled him down.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Just let him sit.”

Martino shot a look at Nico and his knowing smile.

“Yeah, what kind of boyfriend are you?” Gio asked, laughing with Elia. “Won’t even let him sit on your lap.”

“Seems like you don’t have a choice, Elio,” Niccolò said as he crossed the room, and Martino held his breath for a second as Nico eased himself into his lap, a hand hot on his thigh.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Martino murmured in Nico’s ear, and Nico smiled.

“We’ll see,” he replied, wiggling his hips slightly, and Martino went stiff, biting his lip against the shock darting through his body. Niccolò was really not fair at all.

“Aw, aren’t you so cute?” Elia said, reaching over and pinching Martino’s cheek. Martino slapped him away.

“Watch out or you’ll get him hot and bothered,” Niccolò said, and Martino glared at him.

Elia’s eyebrows went all the way up and Gio erupted in laughter at the other end.

“Marti, I didn’t know you were into that,” Elia said, a gleeful look on his face.

Martino could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, and he pinched Niccolò’s side for good measure.

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “Can we not talk about our sex life?”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Niccolò said simply, shifting again, and Martino took a breath, steadying himself against the pressure of Nico’s ass against his dick. He was going to kill him. “I’m sure these two have done far worse.”

Martino wasn’t sure about that, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. After all, he heard far too many weird stories from Luca already. Luca, who didn’t even have sex.

“Marti’s very tight-lipped,” Elia said, eyes on the match, and Martino was glad because all he could focus on was not getting hard with Nico on top of him. Not ten minutes ago, Nico had had his hands up Martino’s shirt, halfway to pulling it off, halfway to dropping to his knees to suck him off then and there.

Martino gave himself a sharp shake. He couldn’t be thinking of that, not right now.

“Well, you can ask me anything,” Niccolò said despite Martino shoving his shoulder. “I could talk about Marti forever.”

Martino wasn’t listening, not really, not with Niccolò’s hand creeping down his side, the side Elia, Luca, and Gio couldn’t see, pushing under the waistband of his jeans, thumb sweeping over his side.

“Look, he’s getting red,” Elia teased and Gio laughed.

“Come on, Marti, don’t get flustered,” Gio said, shaking his head, and Martino bit his lip, forcing himself to exhale and not think of Niccolò’s hand sliding up his side, deliciously warm, a little bit ticklish. “You used to ask about Eva all the time.”

“Did you?” Niccolò asked, curious.

“Not with her in front of you,” Martino pointed out, yanking Niccolò’s hand away, swallowing down the pulse rising in his throat. He could feel the flush on the back of his neck, and he was hot, too hot with Nico on top of him.

Gio waved a dismissive hand. “The tables are turning is all.”

Martino couldn’t take it, couldn’t take Niccolò’s weight on top of him, his mind only able to focus on how hot everything was.

Moving, he pushed Niccolò off, sliding out from under him, turning away from the guys to hide how hard he was, cheeks flushing. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said quickly as both Elia and Gio laughed behind him.

“Don’t be so sensitive!” Elia called after him as Martino ducked in the bathroom and shut the door with a sigh. He couldn’t go back out there until he was sure he could control himself.

For a few moments, he leaned against the door, eyes closed, trying to picture sad things, boring things. At the sink, he ran the sink for a moment, splashing water over his cheeks. It wasn’t working.

At the jiggle of the door handle, Martino whipped around, fully aware that he was still hard, that he couldn’t hide it at this point.

He let out a breath as Niccolò poked his head inside.

“You okay in here?” Nico asked, eyes shining as though he knew exactly what Martino was doing.

“No,” Martino replied as Niccolò came inside and shut the door behind him.

“Maybe I can help,” Niccolò offered despite Martino’s eyebrows rising.

“Ni, they’re right out there,” he said, but he didn’t stop Niccolò from stepping closer, cornering him up against the sink.

“Mhm,” Niccolò agreed, smirking, and Martino only hesitated for a second, glancing down Nico, biting his bottom lip.

“We have to be quick,” he said, Niccolò’s hands reaching for his zipper before he even finished the sentence. Niccolò merely smiled up at Martino as he got his jeans undone and pushed down his thighs.

“We’ll see,” he said, sliding to his knees, and Martino bit back a groan, clutching onto the rim of the sink and closing his eyes. Maybe Niccolò wasn’t going to pay for this. Maybe Martino was going to get paid instead.


	27. Marti & Nico Face Homophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *warning - homophobic language used within.

“So what do you want to do this weekend?” Martino asked Niccolò as they leaned against the wall outside, waiting for Elia and Gio.

Niccolò swayed closer, an easy smile on his face as he plucked at Martino’s shirt, and Martino found himself smiling at the gesture.

“We could always stay in,” he suggested, though the smirk on his face suggested it would be more of a Netflix and _chill_ kind of night.

Martino laughed, leaning into Niccolò, ignoring the students milling past, heading home, doing whatever they were doing. Martino didn’t care about them. He cared more about the way the wind blew the curls on Nico’s forehead, the way Niccolò leaned in closer, reaching for Martino’s hand and squeezing gently.

“I think Elia might demand a FIFA rematch since you creamed him last time.”

“Okay,” Niccolò agreed, tilting his head to the side and grinning. “I can beat him again.”

Shaking his head, Martino closed the distance between them for a kiss. “Then maybe you need to come over and practice with me.”

Niccolò’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Martino grinned, linking his fingers with Nico’s. They probably didn’t have much time before Elia and Gio burst in on the moment, but he always like these tiny bits of time he got with Niccolò in school.

“Why don’t you take that shit somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

Martino looked up at the voice passing them, eyes falling on Marco Covitti, and his stomach curled, ice cold.

Niccolò straightened up at Covitti’s words, mouth hardening as he turned to him, a fire in his eyes Martino rarely saw.

“You want to say that to my face,” Niccolò said, and fear shot straight through Martino as Covitti paused, a self-satisfied look on his face.

“Ni,” he said quietly, a hand on Nico’s stomach, as if that might hold him back. 

“You’re fags,” Covitti said, not bothering to keep his voice down. “And we don’t all need to know it.” He shot a look at Martino’s hand. “You need your boyfriend to hold you back, just like a girl.”

Martino was half-tempted to let go of Niccolò, but violence was the last thing that would help the situation.

“Why don’t you come over here, then?” Niccolò said simply, a hard edge to his voice, and Martino felt unease rippling through him.

Filippo’s words came right back to him, warning, careful, his mind thinking of all the possible outcomes of this, and none of them were good.

“Ni, stop,” he said, stepping in front of Niccolò, in between him and Covitti. He could feel his own heart beating, scared, nervous for what might happen, nervous about Covitti behind him, worried about Niccolò squaring his shoulders. “He’s not worth it.”

Covitti made a rude gesture with his hands. “Yeah, listen to you girlfriend, Fares. Go be unnatural somewhere else.”

Martino stopped Niccolò, hands on his chest, as Nico took a step forward and Covitti walked away, a laugh echoing behind him.

“He’s a bastard,” Niccolò muttered, and Martino only let out a breath, relieved.

“Yeah,” Martino agreed, but he was more relieved that it hadn’t escalated. He was all too aware of what could happen beyond an asshole like Covitti being a homophobe.

Niccolò looked at Martino finally, bringing his hands to Martino’s neck, cupping his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not the one who tried to fight him,” Martino pointed out, but he couldn’t help checking around for anyone lingering, anyone watching. He only saw Elia and Gio approaching in the distance, and he let out a breath as he nodded. “I’m fine.” He glanced up as Elia and Gio rounded the corner. “Don’t tell the guys. They’ll just want to pummel Covitti.”

“Who doesn’t,” Niccolò muttered, but he nodded to Martino, gripping the hair at the back of his neck, an intimate gesture that calmed Martino somehow. “I won’t say anything.”

He knew shit like this was going to happen, and not even knowing he had Niccolò could prevent the tiny pinpricks of fear always at the back of his mind when he walked with Nico down the street, hand in hand, the worry that something could go wrong at any moment simply because of who he was.

“You guys ready for a rematch?” Elia asked as he reached them. “I’m going to crush you this time, Nico.”

“You wish,” Niccolò replied, and he reached for Martino’s hand as they headed down the street, holding it tightly, as though he’d never let go. Martino squeezed back, reassuring, safe. At least for now.


	28. Nico & Gio Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a chat.

It only happens because Martino is sick with the flu and refuses to let anyone see him, even Nico, that Niccolò finds himself down at the bar with Gio. In the many months that Niccolò has been with Martino, he doesn’t think he and Gio have ever actually spent any time together alone. It’s always with Marti or at least one of the other guys.

Not that Niccolò minds. Gio’s a cool guy. It’s just that he doesn’t really know him all that well in a personal sense.

They’re playing foosball, one on one, and Gio grimaces as Niccolò scores another goal.

“That’s it,” Gio says, resetting the ball. “You’re always going to be on my team from now on.”

Niccolò laughs. “Don’t like losing?”

“Hell no,” Gio replies. “Especially to Elia. He’s insufferable when he wins.”

Niccolò knows. He’s seen the boys play FIFA together, the way Elia shoves people with his elbows as if they’re really playing on the field.

“So,” Nico says after a minute, not quite sure what to talk about. “How are things going with Sofia?”

Gio wrinkles his nose slightly, as though he doesn’t know exactly what to say now. “They’re going alright.”

“Just alright?” Niccolò asks, resting his hands on the handles. Ever since Christmas, Gio and Sofia have been dating, as far as Niccolò can tell.

Gio shrugs. “I’m just not sure… I mean, she’s pretty and all, and she’s nice but…” He doesn’t finish and Niccolò nods slowly. 

“Eva,” he says, and Gio looks up, surprised. “Martino told me.”

Gio deflates slightly as he nods. “Yeah, Eva,” he agrees.

Niccolò doesn’t know the whole story. It’s obvious from anyone watching that Gio still cares about her, and Niccolò knows they broke up last year. Martino has sort of danced around the subject which makes Niccolò think there’s more to the story that Marti’s not ready to share. Or maybe it’s not his to share. Nico doesn’t know.

Gio shakes his head, flicking the ball back on the table, but Niccolò doesn’t play along, watching Gio instead.

“It’s stupid,” Gio says when Nico doesn’t play. “We broke up for a reason. We both did dumb things, hurt each other. But I just…” He sighs.

Niccolò hesitates. He and Gio aren’t that close, not like Gio and Marti, who share practically everything, from earbuds to textbooks to shirts and, of course, secrets.

“Can I offer some wisdom maybe?” Niccolò offers after a second and Gio’s eyebrows go up.

“Go ahead,” he says, gesturing with his hand.

Niccolò isn’t sure how much of an expert he is on these matters considering how much of a mess he made with Martino in the beginning, but he likes Gio. He wants him to be happy.

“It seems like, to me, that you guys need the space to change, to grow up maybe, and if it’s really meant to be, you’ll come back together when the time is right.”

“So just wait?” Gio asks and Niccolò smiles.

“Yeah, but don’t sit around doing nothing. You have to keep moving forward or you’ll never meet her again. The lines have to cross, but that won’t happen if you’re sitting still.”

Gio doesn’t reply for a moment, as though absorbing Nico’s words. He smiles after a second. “You’re not bad at the advice,” he says finally, and Niccolò laughs.

“Well, I’m no Love Wizard, but I try.”

Gio snorts. “Marti told you about that?”

Niccolò tilts his head to the side. “You and I both know Martino isn’t that smooth.”

Gio nods knowingly. “The poor boy is a mess. But at least he’s got you.”

Niccolò smiles. “And at least he’s got you.”

Reaching for the ball, Gio holds it up. “One last goal then we force our way into Marti’s apartment with chicken soup?”

Niccolò grins and nods. “You’re on, Garau.”


	29. Nico Meets Marti's Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico wants to meet Marti's dad. Mart is reluctant.

Martino never told Niccolò about his dad, about the whole canceling on bringing Nico to the dinner. For a while, he was too distracted with Christmas, with getting back together with Niccolò, the stress of Niccolò meeting his mother, even though he knew she would love him, and they seemed to bond instantly.

He didn’t even think about it as the New Year dawned and he ignored his dad’s requests to get together after the missed dinner. Martino would rather spend the time with Niccolò anyway.

Snuggled up on his bed, Martino pulled out his phone as it vibrated in his pocket, ignoring it as he caught sight of his dad’s name.

“How come you never answer?” Niccolò asked from beside him, textbook open in his lap, and Martino was more impressed that Niccolò was actually studying this time instead of trying to get him to make out. Not that Nico didn’t try that often enough.

“Because my dad is an asshole,” Martino replied, tossing his phone on the table and pulling his notebook towards him. He had a test to study for, and he’d rather do that than talk about his dad.

Niccolò didn’t speak for a moment, staring down at his book. “I know I missed that dinner,” he said finally, glancing up at Martino, as though he didn’t want to bring it up, that night, and Martino didn’t blame him. It had been a difficult time for both of them, but Martino wasn’t going to let Niccolò feel bad about it. “Was your dad upset about it?”

“No.” Martino shook his head. “I didn’t end up going either.”

“Oh,” Niccolò replied, still watching Martino. “So do you think he’d want to meet me?”

Martino was constantly surprised by how much Niccolò picked up without anyone saying anything. Leaning back against the headboard, he sighed.

“He says he does,” Martino said finally, tilting his head to watch Niccolò. “But I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Niccolò reached over, letting his fingers graze over Martino’s jaw.

“I just don’t see how it’ll change anything.”

Martino was still a little angry that his dad had told his mom about him, the one thing he’d asked him not to do. He wasn’t sure he could trust him not to say something stupid or offensive to Niccolò.

“Maybe don’t do it for him,” Niccolò said slowly. “Maybe do it for you.”

Martino smiled briefly. “For me? What would I get out of it?”

Niccolò shrugged, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as he gazed at Martino, and Martino was struck with just how much he cared about Niccolò, how happy he was.

“It could open a door.”

Martino wasn’t sure he wanted to open that door, to let his dad back in after he’d walked right out in the first place. 

“You just want to see if you can win him over,” Martino said, though he knew that wasn’t the whole truth even as Nico smiled. 

“You said they wouldn’t care.”

“My mom loves you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Marti,” Niccolò murmured, hand falling to the back of Martino’s neck and squeezing gently.

“Okay,” Martino said, giving in, though he wasn’t sure this was Nico’s best idea. It was right up there with running around naked in Milan in freezing cold weather, except perhaps not as threatening to their health. “But if he says anything stupid, we’re leaving.”

Niccolò smiled despite Martino’s frown. This could all go terribly wrong.

*

They met up with his dad in a cafe near the city center, and Niccolò had to practically drag him there.

“I don’t know why you’re so eager,” Martino said as they approached the cafe. “He’s not a great guy.”

“He’s still your dad,” Niccolò said, but Martino wasn’t sure he’d agree.

He saw his dad first, saw his dad’s eyes fall on both of them, rising from his chair immediately to hug Marti. Marti didn’t return it, pulling Niccolò forward by his hand.

“Dad, this is Niccolò. Niccolò, this is my dad.”

“Nice to meet you,” his dad greeted him, all smiles, and Martino didn’t say anything as they sat. “Marti hasn’t told me much, but I take it things are going well?”

Niccolò glanced at Martino, still letting Martino clutch his hand under the table. 

“Yeah,” Niccolò replied when Martino didn’t respond. His dad was just trying to make a good impression, though he wasn’t sure why.

“And how’d you two meet?” his dad asked, and Martino looked up at Niccolò’s squeeze.

“At the radio club,” he said, and his dad paused. 

“I didn’t know you were interested in radio.”

There were a whole host of things his dad didn’t know, but Martino didn’t tell him. He just wanted to get through this meeting. He knew Niccolò was nervous, somehow still wanting Martino’s dad to like him even though it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if his dad liked Nico or not because Martino liked him and that was enough.

“Marti’s actually really good,” Niccolò piped up, smiling at Martino. “He does this historical female figures show with Sana. I’ve learned a lot.”

Martino knew full well that Niccolò didn’t listen to his shows, just like Martino didn’t listen to anyone else’s either, but he smiled as Nico said it, relaxing slightly as his dad continued to look surprised.

“And you do one too?” his dad asked Nico, glancing between them.

“Mine’s more theoretical,” Niccolò replied, moving his hand to Martino’s thigh and leaving it there, a comforting weight. “What life would be like if there were only two people left in the world.”

Martino glanced up, meeting Niccolò’s gaze. As Niccolò smiled back at him, he didn’t care that his dad seemed confused, trying his best to act supportive. It didn’t matter that his dad didn’t understand or that Martino didn’t want to be here. All that mattered was that Nico understood him and he understood Nico.

As his dad asked another question, Martino merely sat back in his chair and let Niccolò field the answers. After all, he could handle it.


	30. Marti & Nico Stay In

_Football match with Peccio at eight._

Martino glanced at his phone, the reminder message to the group. “Shit, I forgot about the game,” he said as Niccolò settled in on the couch beside him.

“What game?”

“Football with the guys,” Marti said, showing Nico his phone.

“Do you want to go?” Niccolò asked, tucking his feet underneath him, an arm resting along the back of the couch.

“Well, I don’t have a better offer,” Martino said, laughing as Niccolò dug his fingers into his side.

“Is that so?”

Tucking the phone away, Martino smiled at Niccolò. “I don’t have to go. We could always stay in.”

Niccolò nodded thoughtfully. “But what will the boys say?”

Martino shrugged, setting his feet on the coffee table and reaching for the remote. “It’s not like I haven’t ditched them for you before.”

Martino didn’t notice Niccolò staring at him as he scrolled through the movie options. It wasn’t until he looked up to find Niccolò watching him that he paused. 

“What?”

“When did you ditch them for me?” Niccolò asked, and Martino grimaced. He hadn’t ever told Niccolò about those first few weeks, all the dumb things he’d done.

Sighing, he set the remote down, turning to Niccolò. There was no hiding it now. Besides, they didn’t have any secrets anymore, or at least, they weren’t supposed to.

“You remember the first time I went to your house?” he asked, watching Niccolò think. He could remember like it was yesterday, the thrill of seeing Nico laugh, trying to convince him that Earl Sweatshirt was good, passing the joint back and forth, the terrible carbonara.

“Of course,” Niccolò replied. “All I wanted to do was kiss you, but I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

Martino’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”

Niccolò nodded, letting his head fall back on the couch, just like he had that day in his own apartment. “I was trying so hard to impress you, with that terrible pasta.”

“So you admit it was bad?” Martino said, grinning as Niccolò laughed.

“It was awful. But what does that have to do with ditching your friends?”

Martino paused, pressing his lips together. “I told you that the party I was supposed to go to was canceled,” he said slowly, meeting Niccolò’s curious gaze. “But actually, it wasn’t. I would rather have spent the time with you.”

It wasn’t as if it mattered now, that he’d left his friends hanging, ignored Emma’s incessant texts to hang out with Nico.

“I bet the guys loved that,” Niccolò said, scooting over until their thighs were pressed together on the couch, and Martino smiled.

“I never actually told them the truth,” he admitted. “That it was you I was with, though I’m sure Gio has figured it out by now.”

“He’s a smart one, that Gio,” Niccolò agreed, leaning into Martino, brushing his hair behind his ear. Marti’s stomach warmed at the gesture, letting their foreheads press together.

“Too smart sometimes,” Marti said, though there was plenty Gio still didn’t know.

Niccolò pressed a kiss to Martino’s lips, soft. “You sure you don’t want to go play football with the guys?”

“Yes,” Martino replied, kissing Niccolò a little deeper and pressing closer. “I think I’d rather stay in with you.”

Niccolò’s lips curled into a smile as he pulled Martino to him, into a hug that was warm and soft but firm and safe at the same time, breathing in the scent of Nico’s hair and his clothes.

“Then let’s stay in,” he said as he pulled back, kissing Martino easily.

“Okay,” Martino agreed, grabbing the remote. There would be plenty of football games with the guys, but right now, this was exactly where Martino wanted to be, snuggling against Niccolò and hitting play on the remote.


	31. Nel Mio Letto Insert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in Nel Mio Letto when Marti climbs off the bed after Nico.

Martino landed on top of Niccolò, sprawled on the floor, watching Niccolò laugh, his heart fluttering the same way it had last night when he and Niccolò had fled the pool, grabbing the bike and hauling ass out of there. Niccolò had been laughing then too, and Martino had felt free.

Niccolò smiled up at Martino as they lay on the floor, and Martino moved to get up, but Nico pulled him back, eyes shining.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a little wobble to his head, playful.

“I’m too heavy,” Martino said, all too aware of Nico’s body underneath his, his bare thighs against Niccolò’s legs, their chests pressed together, his heart thudding against his ribcage.

“I like it,” Niccolò said, a smirk tugging at his lips, leaning into Martino’s mouth.

It was just like last night, the same thrill as before as Niccolò’s hands moved to Martino’s hips, stopping him from moving away, not that Martino had any intention of moving. Not with Niccolò’s tongue in his mouth, hot and wet, sucking on his bottom lip.

A flush rose on Martino’s skin, buzzing in a way he’d never felt before. He’d kissed girls before, but it had never been like this. He’d never wanted it so much, wanted to get his hands all over Niccolò, to explore every inch of his body, to take as much time as possible getting to know him, from the freckles on his cheeks to the indent of his muscles at his hip.

Martino pulled back from Niccolò at the thought, lips sore, panting for breath, glad to see the same flush on Niccolò’s cheeks. He’d never wanted a girl like that, had always not quite understood what Gio meant when he talked about girls like that, why Elia cared so much about hooking up with girls. He got it now, understood what they were talking about, why they cared so much about sex.

Last night had been like a puzzle piece falling into place, a switch going off in his brain. It had been Niccolò’s grin, the way Niccolò had kissed him again once they’d reached his apartment, full of intent, warming Martino down to his toes. It was the same way Niccolò kissed him now, arching up into him, and Martino let his hands find their way into Nico’s hair, caught somewhere between amazed he could finally do this and wanting so much more.

Niccolò’s body was long and warm underneath him, and Martino’s was starting to react to Nico’s hand landing on the back of his thigh. The shorts Niccolò had lent him seemed incredibly short in this moment with Nico’s hand on his bare skin, about to create an embarrassing predicament for Martino.

“We should get up,” he said, half-wishing he hadn’t said it, hands sliding from Nico’s hair, pushing himself up, forcing Niccolò’s hand to slide from his leg, moving up to his side.

Niccolò smiled, gazing up at Martino, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he agreed, but he kissed Martino again, once, softly, and Martino couldn’t help smiling, blushing, far too gone already.

But he didn’t care. For the first time in years, he understood what it meant to really like someone, someone who liked him back, someone who wanted to kiss him and touch him and lie in bed all day with him doing nothing. He finally got it, and he loved it.


	32. Nico Meets Filippo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico's a little jealous, but not for the reason Martino thinks.

Filippo gave Martino the thumbs up behind Niccolò’s back, and Martino couldn’t help laughing. At least he knew Filippo approved of his choice, though it hadn’t been so much of a choice as fate somehow.

“Ni,” he said, catching Niccolò’s attention, nodding him over to where Filippo was still seemingly admiring his looks. “I want you to meet Filippo.”

“Hi,” Nico greeted him, and Filippo grinned.

“The infamous Niccolò,” Filippo said, pulling Niccolò into an unexpected hug. People tended to do that a lot with Niccolò, and Martino smiled at Niccolò’s surprised expression.

“Should you be infamous too?” Niccolò asked once Filo let go of him.

Filippo glanced between him and Martino, an insulted expression on his face that Martino groaned at. Of course, he was going to be dramatic about this. He should have expected it from Filo.

“You haven’t told him a thing about me, have you?” Filippo demanded. “After everything I’ve done for you.” He turned back to Nico. “Let me tell you, Niccolò, I am the one you should be thanking that this boy can even say the word gay without dying. The first time we met, I thought he might run away screaming.”

“That is not true,” Martino protested, rolling his eyes while Niccolò looked between them, as though contemplating something. He was perfectly capable of saying the word, just not about himself.

“How long have you known each other?” Niccolò asked, stepping over to Martino, and Martino felt his hand on his waist. He glanced at Nico, but Nico didn’t look upset or worried or any of the things he’d been in the past week.

Filo paused. “It’s been, what, two months? I was there when you had nobody.”

“Shut up,” Martino said, waving Filo away. “It wasn’t as pathetic as it sounds.”

“It was more,” Filippo said in a stage-whisper to Niccolò, who cracked a smile, but it wasn’t nearly as bright as usual. “Who did you come to when you couldn’t understand what he was doing?”

Martino rolled his eyes, feeling Niccolò’s hand tighten over his waist. “And you were wrong, remember?”

Filo shrugged. “I can be wrong. But I was there, and that’s what counts.”

Martino shook his head, but he was less concerned with Filippo and more concerned with Niccolò beside him. Niccolò just forced a smile when Martino glanced at him, just like he used to do.

Martino didn’t get the chance to ask Niccolò about it as the party went on, the girls pulling out the bingo board and his friends arguing over who was going to talk to Sofia first.

He didn’t get to ask until the party had wound down and most everyone had left except for Elia, Gio, and Luca, whom he had forced to stay to help clean up.

Niccolò stacked cups in the living room as Martino came through with a trash bag.

“Hey,” he greeted Niccolò, who smiled up at him, any tension from before gone as he dumped the cups in the bag. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Niccolò agreed. “It was a fun party.”

Martino nodded, setting down the bag and stepping over to Niccolò. “What did you think of Filo?”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Niccolò allowed, avoiding Marti’s gaze, grabbing empty bottles of wine off the coffee table. “Very friendly.”

Martino watched Niccolò clean for a moment. “You’re not jealous of Filo, are you? Because I would never--”

“No,” Niccolò cut him off, but sighed a second later. “Not like that.”

“Then like what?”

Martino was surprised when Niccolò sat down on the couch. Climbing over the table, he sat down beside him. He knew that Niccolò had never been a fan of Emma’s, the way he’d practically shoved his way in between them at the party, but he’d never really thought of Nico as the jealous type.

Niccolò smiled slightly, almost guiltily. “This is going to sound stupid, but I was jealous that Filo knows you differently than I do, that he got to be there for you and I didn’t. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“No,” Martino said quickly, scooting closer and running a hand through Niccolò’s hair. “It’s not. But that was before we were officially together.”

“And you went to him because of me,” Niccolò said, turning his gaze to Marti, and Martino could see him thinking, see the conclusions already formed, that it was his fault Marti had been so sad and confused.

Martino pulled Niccolò close to him and shook his head. “I went to him because I was afraid to tell people who I was, and he was the only person I knew I could be honest with. But I have you now, don’t I?”

Niccolò nodded slowly, and Martino smiled, stroking his cheeks. He never wanted Niccolò to feel like he made him sad. He didn’t know what he would do without Niccolò at this point, no matter what he was feeling.

“And we don’t have to hide anything,” Martino said, serious, his heart lifting when he got a genuine smile out of Niccolò.

“We don’t,” Nico agreed, leaning in for a kiss.

“Hey!” Elia’s voice interrupted them. “I’m not here to clean while you two grope on the couch.”

Martino flinched as Elia threw a cup at him. “Okay, okay, we’re cleaning.”

“You better or I’ll sick Luca on you,” Elia grumbled as Martino and Niccolò struggled up from the couch, catching each other’s eyes and dissolving into laughter as Elia shook his head and muttered something about disgusting lovebirds.

He might not always say the right thing, but as long as Nico knew he was there, that was all that mattered.


	33. Jealous Nico Meets Filo's Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the label.

Niccolò took a sip of his drink, glancing around the room filled with people he didn’t know, though he’d been introduced to most of them in the past hour. He just couldn’t remember all the names--there had to be at least four of them named Ludovico, though he couldn’t say which.

Filippo was excitedly introducing Martino to all his friends as his ‘gay protege.’ Niccolò found it all fairly entertaining, especially as Martino shot him a look as Filippo dragged him over to someone else.

“I’m teaching him to be his best self,” Filippo said, plopping Martino down at a table with a bunch of his friends.

“Niccolò.” Someone, one of Filo’s many friends, came up behind Niccolò with another drink. “Enjoying yourself?” It was the guy with the ring through his nose, and Niccolò struggled to remember his name. He wasn’t sure it was possible to have this many friends, but it seemed Filippo did, and they’d all come to this bar.

“Yeah,” Niccolò replied, turning away from Martino. “I never knew Filo knew so many people.”

“Well, it’s a bit of a community, isn’t it?” the guy said, and Niccolò tried to think. Alessandro… No. Andrea? Maybe. “We’ve got to stick together.”

“Right,” Niccolò agreed. Even though he was dating Marti, he was still new to this whole thing, to not dating a girl, to what it meant to be with a guy. It didn’t matter to him. Love was love no matter who it was with, but it wasn’t that to everyone.

“Marti’s adorable,” the guy said, slapping Niccolò’s shoulder. “Good job there.”

“Thanks.” Niccolò turned back to where Martino was still trapped at the table, though Filippo had disappeared somewhere else. As he watched, the guy next to Martino, a handsome guy with blue eyes and a charming smile, slid his hand over to Martino’s thigh under the table. Niccolò could see it, plain as day.

To his credit, Martino jerked away, eyebrows furrowing, as though confused by the gesture, and Niccolò felt anger well up inside him. Surely the guy knew Martino was seeing someone. Surely Filippo had said it. He’d said it to everyone else they’d been introduced to so far.

The guy, Andrea maybe, was still talking, but Niccolò wasn’t listening, breaking away without so much as a pleasantry, heading for Martino’s table.

“Hey,” Niccolò greeted Martino, immediately sliding an arm around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek, a clear signal to that too-hot guy next to Marti that he was taken. “What are you doing over here?”

He felt Marti relax under his grip, a grateful exhale of breath to have him there. It made Niccolò relax too, knowing Martino wanted him there. As if there had ever been any question.

Niccolò turned to the guy next to Martino. “I’m Niccolò, his boyfriend.”

“Cool, man,” the guy greeted him, as if he hadn’t just had his hand on Martino’s thigh.

Niccolò leaned into Martino’s ear, murmuring, “You okay? Want to get out of here?”

Martino smiled at him, and Niccolò stroked his thumb over Martino’s cheek gently. He was all for getting out of there if Martino wanted to, and especially for getting him away from other guys hitting on him. It wasn’t that Niccolò didn’t know it would happen. Marti was adorable and sweet and funny, and he probably would meet a lot of guys who would flirt with him. Though probably not many who would do it so blatantly right in front of his boyfriend.

“Let’s go find Filo,” Martino said instead, sliding off the stool and letting Niccolò snake his arm around his waist.

“Did you see that guy?” Niccolò asked the minute they were out of earshot.

“I was the one with his hand on my leg,” Martino pointed out, stopping by the wall and pulling Niccolò closer to him. “Trust me, it wasn’t his hand I wanted there.”

“No?” Niccolò asked, leaning into Marti, fingers anchored in his shirt. Marti was solid, safe, and he would always be there, Nico knew.

Martino shook his head. “No,” he echoed, meeting Niccolò for a kiss that Nico felt all the way to his toes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” Niccolò asked as the kiss broke and he followed Martino’s mouth.

Martino laughed, stroking a hand through his hair. “We have to at least say goodnight to Filo.”

“Okay,” Niccolò agreed, though he was loath to let Martino go back into that den of snakes, so he took Martino’s hand and led the way. “Filo then home.”

They’d find Filippo and then they’d sneak off for a night with just the two of them, just the way it should be. Just the way it always would be.


	34. Martino Comforts Filippo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filippo finds himself in an unfortunate situation. Warning: homophobia.

Martino checked his phone for the third time in two minutes. There was nothing. Leaning against the side of the building, he peered down the street, searching for the familiar flash of Filippo’s bright blond hair, but there was no one there.

It wasn’t like Filo to be late. Usually, he was the one complaining that Martino was always late.

Martino pulled up Whatsapp, bringing up Filippo’s messages.

 _I’m at the cafe. You on your way?_ he sent. They were supposed to have met ten minutes ago, but instead, Martino was lingering around the door as people went in and out and shot him weird looks. He was pretty sure the owner was about to come out and demand to know why he was just standing there.

His phone pinged a second later and Martino yanked it up.

 _This is Ele,_ came the message. _Filo’s in the hospital. You should probably come down._

A horrible weight dropped into Martino’s stomach at the words on the screen, a sudden fear he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since that night in Milan with Niccolo all those months ago. Pocketing the phone, he wasted no time heading for the nearest bus stop.

*

The door squeaked as Martino pushed it open, poking his head inside, unsure if he was really allowed, but both Eleonora and Filippo’s heads turned to him immediately as he stepped inside. 

He felt as if he was walking on eggshells as he approached the bed where Filippo lay, taking in his puffy black eye, the way he flinched when he tried to sit up, but Ele’s hand pushed him gently back.

“Hey,” he greeted them, stomach in knots, as it had been the whole way over. “Are you okay?” It was a dumb question and Martino grimaced as soon as he said it. Of course Filo wasn’t okay.

Filippo cracked a smile, though, through his split lip. “Fine. It’s just a broken rib.”

“It is _not_ fine,” Eleonora shot back, glaring at her brother, though Martino suspected she wasn’t mad at him from the way her mouth settled in a hard line.

“What happened?” Filippo had alway seemed so invincible to Martino, like he could never be hurt, and he knew, even though Filo was trying to keep the mood light, that it was more serious than that.

Ele and Filo exchanged a look, and when Filippo didn’t reply, Ele set her hands on her hips.

“Some homophobic assholes jumped him last night outside a club. He’s got a broken nose, a broken rib, and maybe internal bleeding.”

“Ele,” Filippo said sharply from the bed. “Can you just stop for a minute? Go get some coffee or something.”

Coffee was probably the last thing she needed, Martino thought, but she met his gaze and sighed after a second.

“Fine,” she agreed. “You need anything?”

“I’m fine,” he said, waiting until the door had swung shut behind her to sigh. “She’s worse than a mother.”

Hesitating, Martino moved over to the chair by the bed. He wasn’t sure what to say in this situation, not even sure Filippo would want to hear anything he had to say.

“Where are your parents?” he asked instead and Filo shook his head.

“Vacation in Turin. They’re headed back now.”

Martino still couldn’t believe this had happened, that he was sitting here with Filo in the hospital. He’d always known it could. It wasn’t as if he was naive to the state of the world, to people’s prejudices and hate, but somehow, he’d thought Filippo at least was invincible to that.

Silence fell between them and Martino watched Filo. He seemed smaller in the bed somehow, a bandage over his nose, skin deep purple.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Filippo said after a second, setting his head on the pillow and staring at Martino.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” Martino sat up a bit straighter. He’d been through enough episodes with Nico to know it was best not to react negatively to anything that happened.

Filo sighed up at the ceiling. “You’re thinking why wasn’t I more careful? How could this have happened? Poor Filo got attacked like some helpless little girl.”

“No,” Martino said quickly, shaking his head. “This is not your fault. This was about someone else’s hatred. You were just in the line of fire.”

Filippo didn’t meet his gaze, listless in bed, and Martino’s heart ached for him. Filippo had always been there for him when he needed help. He had always had something helpful to say, something to reassure him, but Martino felt useless now.

With Nico, he usually just had to be there, to reassure Nico that he wasn’t going anywhere, but Filippo was different. He’d never seen him so defeated, like he’d lost all his fight as he sat in that hospital bed, bright lights glaring down at them.

“Every time I think the world’s getting a little better, shit like this happens,” Filo said, and Martino frowned.

“Filo,” he said, taking Filippo’s hand, and Filo finally flicked his eyes to him, almost reproachful, as though there was nothing Martino could say to make things better. And maybe there wasn’t. Maybe the only thing to fix this was time. Maybe it couldn’t be fixed. “You were there for me when I didn’t have anybody, when I was drowning in my own mind. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what would have happened. You made me believe that it was okay to be me, that I could be brave enough.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Rose,” Filo said, looking away from Martino, but Martino tugged his hand closer, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna be here for you,” Martino said firmly. “Right here, in this chair, until you feel better. And we don’t have to talk, or we can rate all the doctors if you want. But I’m going to be here until you feel like you again.”

Maybe it wasn’t different from Nico, except that Filippo seemed to roll his eyes slightly, though with no heat behind it.

“Do you trust me, Rose?” Martino said, and he felt a rush of relief as Filippo huffed out a laugh.

“That’s my line.”

Martino raised an eyebrow as Filo sighed and nodded after a second.

“I trust you, Jack.”

Martino didn’t reply, patting Filo’s hand and sitting back in the chair. Maybe there wasn’t much he could do, but he could be there, and that was usually enough.


	35. Nico's POV at the Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first kiss from Nico's POV

Pool scene from Nico’s POV

—

_“And then?”_

_“We go wherever the fuck we want.”_

That’s how they end up at the old pool, and that’s how they end up half-undressed and soaking wet.

Niccolò almost can’t believe that worked, that it was so easy to get Martino to leave with him, abandon Emma at a bar. Of course, he’d left Maddalena too, and he is sure he’ll hear about it later, but right now, all he cares about is the fact that Martino’s hair is plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his temple and Martino is grinning at him, shaking his head.

“You suck at holding your breath,” Martino says, and Niccolò laughs.

“I’m a master at holding my breath,” he protests, but he doesn’t care about holding his breath. He doesn’t care about any of the words coming out of his mouth right now, only that Martino finally looks happy, happier than he has all evening.

Niccolò hadn’t wanted Maddalena to come, but when he’d mentioned it, she’d immediately invited herself along and texted Emma to join them. Niccolò has been bored out of his mind all evening, shooting glances at Martino, hoping he felt the same, though with that ridiculous mask on, it had been impossible to tell.

Now, though, there’s no mask, just Martino’s wide smile, painted with amusement and disbelief at Niccolò’s words. It has taken hours to get here, days to get Martino alone again, and Niccolò wishes he could have done it sooner.

All week, he’s been thinking about it, thinking about that moment out by the trash cans, their pinkies entwined, Martino leaning into him just the same.

“I was a champion when I was younger,” Martino says, like he actually cares, and it makes Nico smile, heart bursting with warmth at this boy, this adorable, gorgeous guy who ran away with him without any prodding, who followed him into an abandoned underground pool and let Nico push him in.

“Okay, let’s see,” he says and Martino scoffs.

“Are you challenging me?” he asks, as though he should be offended that Niccolò doesn’t straight up believe him. It’s a ridiculous assertion, but Niccolò doesn’t care because Martino looks so amused, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

“First one out of the water loses,” Niccolò says and Martino nods.

“On three. One, two, three.”

Under water, everything seems to slow down, dark blue, chlorine stinging his eyes, bubbles obscuring Martino in front of him. Niccolò reaches for Martino, attempting to break his focus, trying to tickle him, but Martino bats his hands away, movements slow and fluid.

Suspended in the water, a sudden urge grips him, a need to close the distance between them, as though the water will protect his feelings, will somehow make things easier. 

It’s strange, kissing someone under water, and he almost thinks Martino kisses him back. Martino moves back, pushing himself to the surface. Niccolò comes a second later, unable to stop the smile on his face even though he doesn’t know how Martino’s going to react. He has an idea. He’s had an idea for weeks now.

“You lost,” he says and a smile blooms on Martino’s face.

“I lost because you cheated!” he says and Niccolò laughs. If that’s cheating, then he plans to cheat a lot.

“You think there are rules here?” he asks and Martino mimics his little head shake and Niccolò isn’t sure it’s possible to like him more than he does right now.

“Of course!” Martino sounds so insulted, in disbelief that Niccolò would stoop so low. “I want my revenge. But you can’t touch me!”

“As you wish,” Niccolò says as Martino points at him, warning.

Back under water, the world goes silent, a rush in his ears, everything calm and blue and soft. His heart is beating faster as he raises his hands, keeping his word to Martino not to touch him, and it takes less than a second before Martino moves, gliding forward and kissing him.

This one is longer, and Niccolò doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to run out of air as he slides his hands around Martino’s neck and holds on as they rise to the surface.

Breaking the surface of the water, Niccolò sucks in air, watching Martino shove his wet hair from his eyes, and _oh fuck_ , Niccolò can’t believe how amazing he feels, how good that was.

Martino smiles a second later, and Niccolò can’t not kiss him, like it’s the first time all over again, pressing closer in the pool, licking into Martino’s mouth, so glad that Martino lets him. He’s so glad when Martino smiles against his mouth, and he just can’t believe he gets to do this.

It’s been months since he first saw Martino that day outside of school, since he felt the first flicker of something other than emptiness. His heart is full, warm, everything new and exciting, and he never wants it to end. He never wants to let go of Martino’s neck, never stop kissing him, never stop pressing him against the ladder on the side of the pool, kissing him hot and hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

A voice cuts through them, and they both reel back immediately, hauling themselves out of the pool, and Niccolò can’t help laughing as Martino hisses at him, grabbing his pile of clothes and taking the stairs two at a time, Martino close on his heels.

He’s exhilarated, heart racing as they make a break for the gate, slipping under, leaving the grounds keeper yelling in their wake as he yanks his bike off the kickstand and waits for Martino to join him, dripping wet, clutching at his stomach as they ride away and he grins as they speed off into the distance, feeling Martino pressed against his back, wet and warm and real.


	36. Marti & Nico Talk about the Future

Nico and Marti map out what they want their future to be like together? 

 

“Do you really want to move to Milano?” Martino isn’t sure why he asks, opening his eyes to the darkness of his bedroom, feeling Niccolò shift beside him, rolling into him, his breath warm against Martino’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, his hand landing on Martino’s stomach, gentle, playing with the hem of his shirt under the covers. “Don’t you?”

If Martino is honest, the thought of anything in the future scares him. There are some day, he and Niccolò barely manage to get through. If he could, he would stay in some moments forever and never move forward. Like this moment with Niccolò in his bed, allowed to stay over by Nico’s parents as long as his grades don’t fall, curled up together with Niccolò’s nose pressed to his cheek, his eyes probably closed, halfway to asleep like Martino should be.

“I don’t know,” Martino admits, reaching for Niccolò’s curls, smoothing them around his ears.

“We’ll go to Milano for university,” Niccolò murmurs. “I could study music, and maybe you could do radio.”

Martino laughs, feeling Nico’s smile against his skin. “So once I’m a big radio producer, then what?”

Niccolò shifts closer, until their legs are tangled together and he’s got his arm around Martino’s waist, hugging Martino to him. Martino relaxes in his grip, brushing his lips against Nico’s forehead in the dark.

“Then we get a tiny apartment because we won’t be able to afford anything else, and we decorate it with a thousand pictures of giraffes. And we get a dog.”

“A dog?” Martino repeats. “Why a dog?”

“Because every house needs a pet.”

“Why not a cat?” Martino isn’t sure he has enough energy to keep up with a dog, even if Niccolò might on his good days.

“A cat then,” Niccolò agrees. “I like them both.”

Martino sighs, snuggling into the pillow next to Nico. The future seems so far away right now, and he can’t deny that it’s nice to know Nico thinks about these things, thinks about the future with him. 

“And what do we do in our giraffe-filled apartment with the cat and dog sleeping on the furniture and far away from everyone in Milano?”

“Anything we want,” Niccolò replies, voice growing quieter, as if he’s falling asleep. “We can do anything we want.”

Martino strokes Nico’s hair as his breathing slows and he gazes at Nico, even if he can’t see much through the dark except the outline of his features. He lets his fingers graze down his nose, over his cheeks and brush over his lips, down to his chin.

As much as the future seems so far away, he thinks that as long as Niccolò is there, things will be okay. They’ll be okay as long as they’re together, whether in Milano or Roma.


	37. Nico Plays Marti a Song

“I haven’t given you your present,” Niccolò said as they climbed the stairs to Nico’s house, and Martino looked up, curious.

He was tired from the weekend at the lake house, the bus ride home, ready to curl up with Niccolò and go to sleep.

“I get a present?” Martino asked as Niccolò unlocked the front door and led Martino inside. The apartment was dark, but Martino knew the way to Nico’s room. Niccolò didn’t lead him there, flicking on a dim lamp instead in the living room.

“Of course,” Niccolò replied, turning to him, the low light ghosting over his face, the smile there.

Stepping up to Nico, Martino smirked. “Are your parents home?”

Niccolò laughed, drawing Martino in and kissing him deeply. “They’ll be home tomorrow. But that’s not your present.”

Martino hummed softly, not willing to let go of Nico just yet even as Niccolò’s hands landed on his hips, walking him back towards the piano at the wall.

“Sit down,” Niccolò told him at the piano bench, leaving him to turn on another lamp.

Martino ran his fingers over the dark wood cover as Nico returned, sliding in beside him on the bench.

“You’re not going to teach me to play, are you?” Martino asked. “Because I don’t think I’d be good at it.”

Niccolò pressed a kiss to his cheek, sliding back the cover to reveal the keys. “All you have to do is listen.”

Martino could do that, and he leaned into Niccolò, watching him flex his fingers. In all the time they’d been together, he’d never seen Niccolò play the piano except on that video that seemed ages ago, always sitting quietly in the corner, as if no one loved it anymore.

He felt Niccolò take a breath, as if he was nervous, and Martino wondered at it. He rarely saw Nico nervous, any nerves always masked by a smile, but there was no smile this time as Niccolò raised his hands to the keys and began to play.

The melody washed over Martino, soft but strong, keys plucking out a hauntingly beautiful sound that reverberated around them, filling the whole apartment. Martino knew he’d never heard it before, and he closed his eyes as he leaned against Nico’s shoulder, memories washing over him—the first time he’d seen Niccolò outside of school, passing the joint back and forth on the balcony, standing in the dark by the trash cans, his heart racing as Niccolò’s pinky curled around his, the smile on Niccolò’s face the first time they’d kissed, like a dam bursting, like everything was falling into place.

That night on the terrace, pulling Niccolò to him and never wanting to let go.

Martino opened his eyes, watching Niccolò’s fingers dance over the keys, feeling Nico leaning into him the same, the nerves gone now, as if this was exactly where he wanted to be.

The music faded around them as Niccolò drew his fingers back, and for a moment, Martino didn’t want to break the silence.

“I wrote it for you,” Niccolò said finally as they sat in the dim apartment, shoulders pressed together, and Martino reached for Niccolò’s hand, twining their fingers together.

“I love it,” Martino murmured, leaning back so he could catch Niccolò’s gaze, the quirk to the edges of his mouth. It happened quickly, the grip of nerves in his throat as Martino opened his mouth and said what he’d been thinking for months. “I love you.”

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how Niccolò felt, but saying it out loud, for the first time, Martino felt a sudden rush of anxiety, a sudden rush of warmth and love as Niccolò smiled back at him and leaned into his forehead, pressing them together.

“I love you too,” Nico replied, thumb stroking Martino’s cheek, and Martino’s face split into a grin and he let out a breath, relieved, though he knew there had been no reason to worry. “So has it been a good birthday?”

Martino kissed Niccolò, lips brushing together, lingering for a second, warm and soft and sweet, and he smiled as they sat on the piano bench, watching the way Nico’s chest rose and fell with every breath, happiness filling every inch of his body, bubbly and warm.

“It’s been the best birthday,” he replied, squeezing Niccolò’s hand and sighing, content, as they sat on the bench, soft light washing over them in the darkness.


	38. Marti & Nico Meet in the Bathroom (Again)

_Meet me in the bathroom at 11:30._

“We really need to talk about your idea of romantic places,” Martino said as he entered the bathroom at 11:30, as he’d been instructed, smiling at Niccolò lounging against the wall. At Nico’s text, Martino had had an immediate flashback to all those months ago, those feelings of confusion and anxiety when he’d seen Niccolò that time.

There was no anxiety this time, only amusement as Niccolò slid his arms around Martino’s neck and gave him a kiss. “What’s wrong with the bathroom?” he asked, and Martino laughed, pressing their palms together.

“Bathrooms, trashcans in dark alleys,” he said, meeting Niccolò’s eyes. “What’s next?”

Niccolò pretended to think, running a hand through Martino’s hair, and Martino didn’t care where he met Niccolò. If they could find any time in the day to be alone, he would take it. Bathroom or not.

“Maybe a cemetery,” Niccolò said finally, leaning into Martino.

Martino smiled, but he had no intention of going to a cemetery with Niccolò, or with anyone. He’d take the bathroom.

As Nico kissed him, Martino couldn’t help thinking back, back to that moment all those months ago, in this very spot with Niccolò’s hand on his neck, the smile on his face when he’d said his parents would love him.

But Martino remembered something else, something darker, the way Niccolò’s face had changed when he’d talked about his mother.

Martino hadn’t asked then what was wrong, even though he’d known something was off. He hadn’t wanted to open any doors that didn’t contain something good in them.

Niccolò noticed this time when Martino took a breath, breaking their hands apart.

“What’s wrong?”

Martino had never said it, though he’d thought about it a lot after they’d gotten back together, after he’d spent days making sure Nico was alright. He thought about it every time his mother dragged herself home, looking exhausted, spent the whole night on the couch watching TV.

“I was just thinking of the last time we were here,” Martino said finally, leaning against the wall, watching Niccolò frown. “And all those shitty things I said.”

Understanding flitted across Nico’s face. “Oh.”

Martino glanced at him. “I never said I was sorry,” he said, taking Nico’s hand back. He needed Niccolò to know that he’d been stupid and ignorant and dumb about the whole thing. “For what I said about my mom, about how being around her can make you the same. I was wrong, and I was stupid, stressed out all the time. I just want you to know that I don’t think that.”

Martino watched Niccolò pause, eyes downcast for a second, the same way they had been that day, and fear welled up inside him. They’d never talked about it, and the more Martino thought about it, the more he wondered how badly he had hurt Niccolò, hurt him enough to kiss Maddalena three days later. Niccolò hadn’t even wanted to tell him about his BPD, afraid of hurting him, afraid of getting hurt.

Niccolò looked up finally, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. “I know you don’t,” he said, and Martino hesitated, not quite sure he believed him. “And I know it’s hard sometimes to deal with, for both of us, and your mom, but since we’ve been together, you’ve never let me feel alone.”

Martino sighed, pulling Niccolò to him, wrapping him in a hug, tucking his chin against his shoulder and feeling Niccolò’s hands slide around his waist.

“Maybe we should stop meeting in the bathroom,” Niccolò said after a minute, and Martino laughed, a weight coming off his shoulders.

“You think it’s cursed?”

Niccolò moved back, brushing his fingers over Martino’s cheeks as he smiled. 

“We’ll have to find somewhere just as romantic.”

“Boccia’s office?” Martino suggested, and Niccolò laughed as he nodded.

“Or Spera’s. It’s nice and quiet.”

“Actually, I think Luchino goes there and asks for advice.”

“Maybe not,” Niccolò said, wrapping his hand around Martino’s, and Martino couldn’t help smiling. After all, they’d both made mistakes, and he was pretty sure they’d make some more, but they’d do it together and that was all that mattered.


	39. Marti Loves Nico's Neck

There was going to be a mark as Niccolò slid down Martino’s neck, mouthing along the skin, sucking bruises against him, but Martino didn’t stop him. He didn’t push Nico away, gripping the back of his neck instead and sucking in a breath.

It was Niccolò’s favorite spot, just above Martino’s collarbone, the whole column of his neck that he stretched back for Nico, closing his eyes, letting Niccolò mark him.

It was getting too warm for scarves now, and he wouldn’t be able to hide it when he went to school, knew people would stare at him, Gio and Elia would tease him forever about it, but he didn’t care. Nico liked it, and he loved it.

“I love your neck,” Niccolò murmured and Martino laughed, kissing him deeply.

“I had no idea,” he said, and he didn’t shove Nico away when he slid to his neck again, licking over the sensitive bruise from last week.

Martino shivered at Niccolò’s lips under his ear, tongue sliding over the soft patch of skin that made his whole body hot.

“Want me to stop?” Niccolò asked as he moved back, letting his fingers drift over the red patches on Martino’s neck, gazing down at Martino on the bed.

Martino smiled up at him, shaking his head. “I want everyone to know that I’ve got the hottest boyfriend in school.”

“They’re going to know,” Niccolò agreed with a playful smile as he nosed at Martino’s jaw.

“Good,” Martino replied, wrapping his arms around Niccolò’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

Tomorrow, when he showed up at school, Elia and Gio’s eyes went wide and Gio gave him proud shake of his shoulder while Elia asked if he’d gotten into a fight with a vacuum cleaner. Martino merely grinned, unphased, stretching out his neck to display the marks littered across the skin. Everyone was going to know he had the best boyfriend and he didn’t give a fuck whether they approved or not because Nico was his and he was Nico’s.


	40. Nico Takes Care of Sick Marti

“He’s a little bit delirious,” Martino’s mother warned Niccolò as he poked his head in Martino’s room. “I’m going to go to the store if you don’t mind staying for a bit.”

Niccolò shook his head. “Of course,” he said. He’d come over to make sure Martino was okay since he hadn’t responded to any of his texts since yesterday. He figured Martino had been sleeping, which he should have been, but it didn’t stop Nico from worrying.

She patted him on the shoulder with a sigh, leaving him alone at Martino’s door.

Stepping inside, Niccolò’s gaze fell over Martino’s body curled up under the covers, his eyes closed like maybe he was sleeping, but he opened them a second later as Nico came closer, bleary, as though he couldn’t quite focus on his face.

“Hey,” Niccolò greeted him, brushing his fingers across his cheek. He was definitely running hot, skin burning. “How are you?”

“Dead,” Martino muttered, pressing his face into the pillow. “I want to be dead.”

At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

“Have you seen a doctor?” Niccolò brushed his hands through Martino’s hair, kneeling down by the bed so he was on the same level as Martino, who watched him through narrowed eyes, as though he didn’t have enough energy to open them all the way.

“No, no doctors, no hospitals,” Martino protested, licking his chapped lips. “They’re always cold and full of death.”

Niccolò would have laughed, but Martino seemed completely serious, so he nodded. “Okay.”

Martino sighed heavily. “I hate Luchino. If I ever get out of this bed, I’m going to murder him with my bare hands.”

Moving, Niccolò climbed over Martino to the other side of the bed, watching Martino roll over to face him, clutching the covers to him.

“You know it’s not his fault,” he said, but Martino shook his head.

“It is. He was sick first and I’m sick. And I hate him.”

Niccolò knew that wasn’t true, but he nodded anyway, curling himself around Martino. It wasn’t often that Martino was like this, so helpless, cheeks pink and eyes bleary. They seemed to focus on Niccolò for a second, though.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said slowly. “You’re gonna get sick too.”

“I’m very healthy,” Niccolò assured him, pressing the back of his hand to Martino’s cheek, feeling the heat coming off him.

“It’s so hot,” Martino said a second later, kicking off the covers, and Niccolò let him, pulling them down for him.

“Have you had anything to drink?” he asked, glancing around the room. “Water? Juice?” He didn’t see any glasses anywhere.

Martino groaned into the pillow, and Niccolò let his hand land on his neck, stroking over the skin gently. Usually, Martino was the one doing this for him, convincing him that things were going to be okay. It was nice to be the other way around, not that he wanted Martino to be sick. But it was nice to be able to do something for him for once.

“I’m going to get you some water,” he said, pushing himself up, but Martin’s hand wrapped around his wrist and tugged him back.

“Don’t go,” Martino murmured, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Nico settle back in beside him. “God, it’s cold now,” he complained, and Niccolò helped him yank the covers back up, rubbing his shoulders as Martino shivered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised as he snuggled in against Martino, petting his hair gently. “I’m going to stay here until you feel better, like you do for me.”

“One minute at a time,” Martino murmured, eyes closing, and Niccolò nodded, a smile on his lips.

“With serenity,” he whispered as Martino’s breathing evened out, falling asleep. Leaning forward, he pressed a careful kiss to Martino’s forehead and sighed, slipping off the bed and heading into the kitchen to get Martino a glass of water for when he woke up.

As he filled the glass, he couldn’t help smiling to himself. It was nice to be needed, and for once, he could actually help. Returning to Martino’s room, he set the glass on Martino’s bedside table and climbed back into his spot, wrapping his arms around Martino and closing his eyes. They’d get through this, like they got through everything else.


	41. In Which Nico Picks up that Night Marti Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Nico picks up the phone when Martino calls him after the talk with his dad.

Martino can’t breath. His throat closing. He can’t breath and every time he blinks, more tears trickle down his cheeks.

Every ring of the phone is a knife twisting deeper in his heart, caught between fear and resignation.

His lip trembles as the line goes silent, a tiny click, a moment of nothing when his heart climbs into his throat and stays there.

Yellow light from his lamp cascades over his homework, his textbook lying open as if he can focus on anything but the silence on the other end of the phone.

“Hello?” Niccolò’s voice is shaky, unsure, too quiet.

“Ni.” Martino forces the word out, past his heart choking him. So afraid.

He should have done this days ago. Doesn’t know what he’s going to say. If Nico wants to hear from him at all.

“Martino.” He can almost hear the sigh, the catch of Nico’s voice.

More tears fall, sliding down his cheeks, silent. Martino swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Ni,” he says again, wiping the tears from his face. There are no words, no words he can form here. No words to explain what he’s doing, what the last week has been for him. “I’m sorry.”

The words come out choked, not the way he wants, but he has no control left. He left it behind in the conversation with his dad, choking back his emotions. He can’t stop it with Niccolò on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry.” Niccolò repeats the word and it’s not quite a question, not quite a statement. His voice sounds hollow, as hollow as Martino feels right now.

Martino takes a shaky breath, holding his breath. 

“Why are you sorry?” It sounds like Niccolò doesn’t understand why Martino says it, why the words fall from his lips as easily as Niccolò had said, “I want to be with you” all those weeks ago.

Martino sniffs back tears, eyes puffy, drops falling on his homework on the desk in front of him.

He’s overwhelmed, overwhelmed with guilt and fear and desperation, a longing for something he might have lost forever.

He sucks in a breath, hands shaking, eyes blurring with more tears, unable to stop them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain. I’m sorry I listened to Maddalena.” He doesn’t wipe the tears falling, bowing his head against the soft yellow glow of the lamp. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. If there’s any way to fix this. If there’s anything left to fix. “I miss you.”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. It tugs at Martino’s heart, an answer to an unasked question, settling heavy on his shoulders.

Then.

“Marti,” Niccolò says, something softer in his voice, exhausted, scared, but it makes Martino’s heart jump, unbidden. Martino’s head rises, wiping his face, taking a breath. His heart thrums against his throat. “I should have told you sooner. Before.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Martino doesn’t care about before. He doesn’t care about the mistakes they’ve made. He doesn’t care about the mistakes they’re going to make.

“It does,” Niccolò says, a catch in his voice. Maybe he’s crying too. Maybe he’s curled up on his bed, looking tiny, beaten down the way Martino feels. “I was just afraid you would leave.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Martino repeats, firm. Another wave of pain. Pain he’s caused Nico. “Because I want to be with you… Don’t you want to be with me?”

Another silence, less painful, but Martino still holds his breath, still waits, the tears finally stopping as he sniffs.

It takes another second.

“I think so,” Niccolò says, voice soft, quiet.

Martino exhales finally, the weight disappearing off his shoulders. He’s still a mess, eyes still puffy, nose running, but he can breathe again.

“Can I come over?” He needs to see Niccolò. To know he’s okay, that everything is okay. He needs to feel Niccolò in his arms.

“My parents are home.”

“Can you come here?”

Martino hates the silences, hates what they could mean.

“Yes,” Niccolò says finally. “Yes.”

A smile. Martino feels a smile grow on his face as they hang up, relief, and even though it’s not over, just the beginning, he thinks they can figure it out. Together.

*

The knock comes quietly, barely audible, but Martino is listening for it. He shuffles to the front door, down the dark hallway, the only light a lamp someone forgot to turn off in the living room.

Pulling open the door, Martino’s heart jumps as he sees Niccolò standing there, bundled up in his puffy coat, his thick scarf twined around his neck. He looks small somehow, like he did that night in Bracciano, unsure somehow.

Martino feels only relief, throwing his arms around Niccolò and hugging him tightly, not willing to let go even as they stand in the doorway. He feels Nico’s arms twine around his waist, feels Nico’s exhale, shaky, like he’s still not sure about everything.

Martino’s tears have dried from earlier, leaving him drained, exhausted, but he doesn’t let go of Nico, burying his face in his neck instead and holding on tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, because he has to. Niccolò has to know.

For a moment, the world seems to stop with Niccolò in his arms. He’s been a complete asshole this whole week, listening to Maddalena, not bothering to ask Nico anything. He hates to think how alone Niccolò has been. At least Martino had his friends, had Luca to smack some sense into him.

He’s surprised to find tears on Nico’s cheeks when he pulls back, Nico’s lower lip trembling as he tries to sniff them away, not quite meeting Martino’s gaze.

Martino brushes away the tears, pressing their foreheads together.

“Everything’s okay now,” he whispers, stroking his fingers over Nico’s cheeks. Moving forward, Martino presses a kiss to Nico’s lips, soft and careful.

Niccolò needs to know that Martino is there, that he’s not going anywhere. Marti never wants to let go of Niccolò again.

Nico sniffs again, letting out a rush of breath, lifting his gaze to Martino finally. “Your mom?” he asks, and Martino shakes his head.

“She already went to bed.” Sliding his hand down, he wraps his around Nico’s, tugging him gently down the hall. “Come on.”

They don’t speak as Martino leads Nico into his room, shuts the door behind him. For a second, it occurs to Marti that Nico has never been in his room, but Nico doesn’t seem interested in that fact right now, standing by the bed, looking lost, and Martino steps over to him.

“At least take off your shoes,” he says, trying for a joke, but maybe it’s too soon. “Ni?”

Niccolò steps out of his shoes, stripping off his jeans, and Martino shoves them out of his way so he can climb under the covers. Martino joins him, scooting over so that they’re pressed together, chests touching, and Martino lets his gaze fall over Nico’s face, the drying tear tracks on his face, the puffiness of his eyes, and he wonders how long Nico has been like this.

A wave of guilt hits him out of nowhere, twisting in his gut, and he reaches for Nico under the covers, fingers curling around his waist. Nico is here, he reminds himself, closing his eyes for a second. Nico is here and they’re going to make it through this.

Niccolò blinks slowly, as though he has nothing left, and Martino presses their noses together, their breaths mingling between them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, and he thinks he sees a smile, tiny, at the corner of Nico’s lips.

“Yeah?” Nico whispers, fingers anchored in Martino’s shirt, like he just needs to be sure that Martino is really there.

“Yeah,” Martino replies, brushing his lips against Nico’s, barely a kiss. He just wants to know that Nico’s safe, that he’s safe and happy and he feels okay.

Under the covers, Martino tucks his ankle around Niccolò’s, rubs his thumb just below Nico’s rib cage, over his shirt. He can feel Nico’s heartbeat against his, a rhythmic thud he feels his matching as they lay there, tangled up in each other.

He’s made so many mistakes, Martino thinks as he gazes at Nico, the slow way he blinks as though he’s on the verge of sleep. So many mistakes in the past few weeks, done and said so many things he can’t take back. But here, with Niccolò, it somehow doesn’t matter.

Sliding his hand up, he lets it rest on Nico’s shoulder blade, snuggling in close, heads sharing a pillow, and Nico’s eyes sweep up to his.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Nico murmurs finally, pressing his lips together, and Martino shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says, rubbing tiny circles on Nico’s shoulder with his thumb, soft, soothing.

“I should have,” Nico says, but Martino doesn’t let him start, kissing him gently.

“It’s okay,” he says, quiet but firm. Neither of them have been perfect. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that they’re going to figure this out. Together.

Niccolò nods after a minute, closing his eyes, letting out a breath, and Martino nuzzles his cheek, closing his eyes too. Nico’s fingers are still clenched around his shirt, but Martino feels them relax as Nico’s breathing evens out and he falls asleep. Martino doesn’t move away, holding Nico close as they lay there. He’s never going to let go. Never again.


	42. Marti & Nico on the Train to Milan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene we didn't see on the train.

Martino hid his face in Niccolò’s shoulder, smothering his laugh, somehow unable to stop smiling like he had been all day. Out the window, countryside rushed past, blurring in green and brown, dead from the winter, and Niccolò wrapped his hand around Martino’s, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to his wrist.

Martino couldn’t help glancing around, but the train was mostly empty except for a few primly-dressed women near the back, reading books and completely ignoring them.

This was crazy, Martino found himself thinking as he pulled back to gaze at Niccolò, at the grin on his face, wide, excited, ready for an adventure. It was crazy and amazing that they were here, hopping a train to Milan just because they could.

Usually, Martino thought too much, thought too much and made excuses for why he couldn’t do things like this, but with Niccolò, anything seemed possible.

“We’re going to go to Bar Luce first,” Niccolò said, leaning into Martino, fingers stroking back his hair. “Then we can go see the middle finger statue.”

“Middle finger statue?” Martino repeated, grinning at Nico, at the excitement in his eyes. The whole train ride, Niccolò had felt like he was vibrating, even when he was sitting still.

“Yeah, a nice big ‘fuck you’ to the banks,” he said, turning Martino’s hand over in his and tracing the lines of his palm as Martino smiled, watching him.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said after a minute, and Niccolò beamed at him, leaning into his forehead, silently asking for a kiss.

Martino obliged easily, hands coming up to Niccolò’s neck as their lips pressed together and smiling as Nico pulled back to pepper kisses over his face.

“We are,” Niccolò said with a grin, kissing him properly again, tongue sliding into his mouth, and Martino only broke away when the door to the car slid open, waiting for the person to pass by before laughing with Niccolò, heads coming together.

He felt giddy, happy in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. Sitting next to Nico, watching the world rush past the window, the train silent but for their conversation, his fingers entwined with Niccolò’s. He was pretty sure this moment was perfect, the most perfect moment of his life even though all he was doing was sitting on a train with Niccolò, fingers pressed together, Nico’s curls brushing against his neck as Nico leaned against him.

Every moment felt perfect with Niccolò.

“Do you like sushi?” Nico asked, abrupt, gazing up at Martino. “You like sushi, right?”

Martino smiled, letting Niccolò pull his hand into his lap as he leaned back against the seat and gazed out the window.

“Yeah, I like sushi.”


	43. Marti & Nico's Nighttime Routine

Martino glanced at the clock on his phone as the episode ended, about to roll into the next one on the laptop.

“We probably shouldn’t watch another one,” he said, glancing over at Niccolò beside him on the bed. They’d been lying on Nico’s bed for the last hour, partially talking over the episodes, Martino shushing him when something funny was about to happen and Nico teasing him about his love for such a strange show.

“Hey, you said you’d break into the zoo if you were the last man on earth,” Martino had only teased back.

“To get us a giraffe,” Niccolò had argued, digging his fingers into Martino’s side until he had to laugh and squirm away from the tickling.

Martino paused the counter, unable to stop the yawn taking over his face.

“You’re such an old man,” Niccolò said, voice fond, smiling at Martino, an arm comfortable around his shoulders as they sat slouched on the bed. The only light was a warm lamp in the corner, illuminating the many drawings on Nico’s walls, the shelves stacked high with books and trinkets. Everything always felt so warm and safe at Niccolò’s house, especially when he got to snuggle up with Nico on a weekday night.

Usually, their parents were too concerned about their schoolwork to let them do this, to let Martino stay over on a school night, but Niccolò’s parents were gone early for the weekend, and Martino’s mom had given him her blessing for the night.

“Just trying to keep us well-rested,” Martino said as he closed the laptop and rolled off the bed, quirking his eyebrows at Nico spread out on the bed. “For the rest of the weekend.”

“Ooh,” Niccolò said as he pushed himself up too. “Have some plans, do we?”

“Maybe,” Martino allowed, “but not for tonight.”

“Okay,” Niccolò said, sounding doubtful, looping his arm around Martino’s waist as they headed for the bathroom to brush their teeth. “Keep your secrets for now.”

Martino laughed, taking the toothbrush Nico handed him.

They didn’t speak as they brushed their teeth, Martino meeting Nico’s eyes in the mirror and unable to stop his smile. It was almost embarrassing how much Martino loved this, how comfortable it was to stand with Niccolò in the small bathroom, over a single sink, doing something as mundane as brushing teeth.

“Did you bring something to sleep in or are you just going to steal my clothes?” Niccolò asked once they were back in his bedroom and Nico stripped off his shirt.

“I like how your clothes smell,” Martino said with a shrug, even if they were usually a touch too small for him. Unless he stole Nico’s sweatshirt. Those were big and warm and soft and smelled like Niccolò. “And you know you love giving me the smallest pair of shorts you own.”

Niccolò didn’t argue, grinning instead as he dug through his drawers for a shirt, tossing it to Marti. “You can wear your own underwear tonight.”

Martino just laughed, climbing under the covers and shuffling closer as Nico joined him, leaving the lamp on for now, shadows falling over his face as they lay facing each other.

“So,” Martino said after a minute, slipping his hand to Nico’s side, fingers grazing just under his shirt, across his warm skin. “Tell me three good things about today.”

Nico lifted his eyes to Martino, a soft curve to his smile and he took a second to think.

They usually did this over the phone, Martino calling Niccolò, putting him on speaker to talk as he changed and got ready for bed, took him off speaker as he climbed into bed and left the light on so he wouldn’t fall asleep.

He always asked. Every night.

Niccolò’s hand drifted to Martino’s neck as it so often did when they lay like this, stroking his thumb over the skin.

“I saw someone give up their seat to a pregnant woman on the bus,” he said at length, gazing at Marti, eyes soft but not tired. “I passed my English exam. And I get to spend the night with you.”

Martino still blushed, as easily as he had that first time he’d woken up with Nico, leaning in to kiss him, heart bursting with love.

“Come on,” Niccolò said when Martino set his head back on the pillow, letting his eyes graze over Nico’s dark eyebrows, the lines at the edges of his eyes from how much he smiled, the faint freckles over his nose. “Tell me three things.”

Martino thought for a moment. “Oh, Luchino walked into a door today,” he said, and Niccolò wrinkled his nose.

“How is that a good thing?”

“One, it was pretty funny,” Martino admitted, smiling at Nico’s slight frown. “But two, when he fell over, Silvia saw and made a fuss that he was okay, so that was good for him.”

“Ah, okay.” Niccolò seemed to agree with a small nod.

Martino paused again, thinking. It wasn’t always easy, coming up with three things, but he tried. He tried for Nico, to remind them both that there was always something good happening even when the rest of life seemed like shit.

“My mom smiled today,” he said after a minute, feeling Nico’s thumb resting against his pulse. It had been a real smile, not one of those exhausted smiles she’d given for months. Martino was always glad to see it. “And I get to spend the night with you.”

“You don’t get to steal mine,” Nico said, no heat behind it, leaning into Martino, his breath fanning over Martino’s chin as Martino closed his eyes.

“Why not? It’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing,” Niccolò agreed, pressing his lips to Martino’s.

Martino hugged Nico closer as Nico twisted to turn off the light. This was always so much better than over the phone, but Martino would take anything when it came to Nico, good or bad.


	44. Marti Meets his Step-Brother

“How come Martino never comes over?” Leo asked, watching his dad pause over his coffee, exchanging a glance with his mom before clearing his throat.

“He’s busy with things,” he said at length, and Leo wasn’t dumb enough to believe that anymore.

It had been years since his parents had been married, since Martino had become his step-brother, but he rarely saw him, and his dad didn’t talk about him much. He’d heard them whispering sometimes, his parents, about ‘what to do’ about Martino, but nothing ever seemed to be done.

He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he knew that couldn’t be the truth. Frowning, he glanced between them.

“What things?”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about Martino,” his mom said firmly, shoving a plate of biscuits over to him. “You have exams coming up. You should be studying.”

It wasn’t an answer and Leo rolled his eyes but didn’t ask anymore. She always seemed to change the subject when he asked. Maybe Martino was a leper. Or maybe he was a bum. Leo didn’t know. He couldn’t know because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him.

Martino had used to come around maybe once a year, maybe for Christmas, but the visits had dwindled until he stopped coming altogether, and no one seemed to have a reason for why. Leo was sure there was a reason, but it wasn’t one his parents wanted to share with him.

So he didn’t ask again, but when his dad went to the bathroom and left his phone on the table, Leo forwarded Martino’s number to his phone.

*

Leo didn’t know why he cared so much, why he was so curious, why he’d texted Martino and asked to meet him.

His friends had been even more skeptical.

“What if he’s a total creep?”

“He’s not a creep,” Leo had replied, rolling his eyes. “He was always nice before.”

“Yeah, ten years ago. Who knows what he’s done since then.”

Leo didn’t listen, sending the message anyway. If Martino did turn out to be really weird, at least he’d have an answer.

Martino’s response had not been quick, sitting on read for several days until he wrote back and agreed to meet at a bar near the center of town.

His dad had pictures of Martino, but they were old, from when Martino was his age, a guy with curly auburn hair, a wide smile, the way Leo remembered him. But it had been years, and Leo suspected he didn’t look the same.

Leo’s head shot up as the door opened and he knew it was Martino immediately, even though he had changed, had shorter hair, face a little thinner than it used to be. He caught Martino’s eye, and Martino made his way over.

He didn’t look like a creep, Leo allowed as Martino sat down, setting his hands on the table and taking him in.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” Martino asked, breaking the silence, and Leo wondered what he meant by “your dad.” He was Martino’s dad too.

“Should he?”

Leo hadn’t told him he was meeting Martino. It was clear they didn’t want to talk about him, and he wanted to know why.

Martino didn’t reply except to bob his head a little, a knowing smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he understood something Leo didn’t.

“So what did you want to talk about?” he asked, leaning back and watching Leo, almost skeptical.

Frowning, Leo shrugged. “I just wanted to catch up, I guess. Do you have a job or anything?”

“Of course I have a job,” Martino replied, wrinkling his nose as though it was a dumb question, but from the way his parents talked, or didn’t talk, about Martino, Leo figured there had to be something wrong. “I’m a projection manager at a radio station.”

“Oh.” Leo was surprised.

Martino almost smiled. “Surprised I’m a normal human being?”

“It’s just my parents don’t talk about you,” Leo admitted, watching Martino cross his arms.

“So you wanted to find out what was wrong with me?”

“No,” Leo said quickly, even though it had been in the back of his mind. “You are my step-brother, so I thought maybe it’s time we actually acknowledged that.”

Martino paused for a second and Leo began to wonder if this had been a terrible idea. He wasn’t one for great ideas, which was how he ended up in trouble at school all the time.

At length, Martino sighed, dropping his arms. “You seem nice enough, Leo, but my dad and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. We haven’t for years.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Leo didn’t understand what that mattered.

Martino paused. “I don’t think he’d be pleased to know you’re here right now,” he said finally. “My dad doesn’t agree with how I live my life, and he chose to keep me away from you, so I chose to stay away from him. You’re old enough to decide what you want to do, and if you want to be friends, I can try, but I can’t promise anything.”

Leo frowned. “What do you mean ‘kept you away?” His dad had never mentioned anything about Martino’s life or why he wouldn’t want him around.

Martino opened his mouth but paused, eyes falling on someone coming in. He looked back to Leo.

“I can’t stay long,” he said instead, rising from his chair, and Leo rose too, turning as Martino nodded at someone behind him. It was a dark-haired guy who stepped up to Martino, an arm sliding around his waist. Martino caught him staring, confused. “Leo, this is Niccolò, my boyfriend. Ni, this is my step-brother.”

The guy, Niccolò, flashed him a smile, and Leo felt understanding wash over him. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Leo heard himself say. He got it now, why his parents were so weird about Martino.

Martino was watching him closely, as though he expected some kind of reaction from him.

“We have to get going,” Martino said finally when Leo just stood there like a fish, brain struggling to come up with something to say to convince Martino that he didn’t care. He didn’t give a fuck if Martino was gay, if he had a boyfriend. He wasn’t a homophobic asshole like some people.

“Wait,” Leo said as Martino and Niccolò reached the door, stumbling over a chair to stop them. “Do you guys want to hang out next week? Go to a movie or dinner or something?”

He was glad to see Martino’s face break into a smile, the glance he exchanged with Niccolò before he nodded. 

“Sure,” he said, taking Niccolò’s hand as he pushed open the door to the bar. “Text me.”

“Okay,” Leo agreed, watching them leave. There was one thing he knew for sure, Leo thought as he returned to his table, his dad didn’t need to know about this, and maybe he didn’t deserve to.

*

“Do you think this was a bad idea?” Martino asked as Nico locked the car and rounded to his side, gazing at the restaurants lights down the street.

Niccolò reached down, squeezing Martino’s hand, and Martino glanced at him instead. When Leo had asked to hang out, go out dinner, whatever, Martino had said yes, but he was beginning to think he shouldn’t have. After all, Leo was still a kid, only seventeen. His parents were still responsible for him, and they surely didn’t want him meeting Martino.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting to know your step-brother,” Nico said simply, and Martino had to nod. He was right about that.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, letting out a breath. Besides, Martino was the adult here. He didn’t need to feel defensive even though he had no idea what Leo knew about him, what misconceived ideas his father had put in his head over the last eight years.

“I often am,” Niccolò said, despite Martino laughing at him, but Martino took the first step toward the restaurant anyway.

“What about when you wanted to get that apartment above the pizza place?” he asked as they approached the front door.

“It was affordable,” Nico argued, pulling open the door for Martino.

“The whole place smelled like garlic,” Martino reminded him, smiling at the memory, but it vanished as he caught sight of Leo already sitting at a table. He took a breath. He could do this. They’d survived the first meeting, coming out (again. It felt like a never-ending thing, coming out). Leo had wanted to do this, Martino reminded himself as he approached the table.

“Hi,” Leo greeted them cheerfully. “You’re here.”

“Didn’t think we would be?” Martino asked, and Leo shrugged.

“I just wasn’t sure I made the best impression last time,” he said. “But I want you to know I don’t care about _that_.”

That. Martino shook his head for a second, but he chose to ignore it. “Did you tell your dad about meeting me?” he asked instead, feeling Nico’s hand slide to his leg under the table, a gentle reminder that he was there.

Leo shook his head. “I figured he doesn’t need to know,” he replied. “I’m old enough to talk to whoever I want.” He set his elbows on the table, glancing between them. “So how long have you guys been together?”

Martino glanced at Niccolò, who smiled.

“Since we were about your age,” Nico said, squeezing Martino’s leg. “So, what? Eight years I think.”

Martino smiled. “I know you still count the days. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Niccolò laughed, bobbing his head in agreement. “Okay, it’s been eight years, four months, and twenty-two days.”

“Wow,” Leo said, looking between them. “That’s a long time.”

“It hasn’t felt like it,” Martino said, catching Nico’s smile. “Not really.”

Leo nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “So, like, do you never fight? ‘Cause my parents pretend they don’t fight, but they do.”

“Well, I mean, no relationship is perfect,” Martino admitted, watching Nico, who didn’t disagree. They’d had their fair share of disagreements, of days when neither of them wanted to admit they were wrong, of times when Niccolò laid in bed all day until Martino curled around him, whispering comforting things in his ear until Nico smiled again. Martino nodded at Leo instead of adding more. “So do you have a girlfriend?”

Leo wasn’t exactly unattractive, for a teenager, Martino supposed. He reminded him a bit of Luca, with his dirty blond hair and bright eyes.

Leo grinned. “I’ve got a few girls interested.”

Martino wasn’t sure he believed that confidence, but he only smiled, catching Nico’s eye. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to commit to any of them,” Leo went on. “Then I’ll lose my options.”

Niccolò sat back in his chair. “You know, if you don’t, you might lose the one you really care about.”

Leo seemed to think about that for a second while Martino nudged Nico.

“Is that how you chose?”

Nico shook his head, reaching for his glass of water. “I never had to choose with you. You were always the answer.”

Martino shot him a look, unable to stop his smile. Even after all this time, Nico could still make him feel like a giddy teenager with just a few words.

“Maybe you’re right,” Leo said after a minute, nodding along.

Niccolò smiled, slipping his hand into Martino’s under the table. “I often am.”

Martino didn’t argue, squeezing back as the waiter finally arrived to take their order.


	45. After Nel Mio Letto

The pasta was edible this time, though Martino had paid careful attention to everything Niccolò had put in it, ensuring the honey and Tabasco stayed far away from the pot.

“See? I can cook,” Nico said as they lay on his bed, the laptop set up on a pillow and a movie playing, but neither of them were paying attention to it.

Martino smiled, nodding slightly as he glanced over at Nico. “So then what was that mess you tried to pass off as carbonara?”

“It was a severe lack of ingredients,” Niccolò argued. “I shouldn’t be penalized for my mother’s lack of shopping skills.”

Martino couldn’t help laughing, leaning into Nico and relaxing as Nico’s arm slid around his neck, fingers brushing against the back of his neck. He never wanted this weekend to end. He never wanted to leave this perfect bubble where he could just enjoy being with Nico. Where he didn’t have to think about his mom, about the fact that he was probably supposed to be doing something with the boys right now. He didn’t have to think about any of that as Nico leaned in to kiss him.

All he had to think about was the fact that he got to fall asleep next to Niccolò for the second night in a row, got to wake up to his smile, morning kisses and soft laughter, Nico’s soft fingers grazing up his side and making him think of things other than chaste kisses.

Nico made a noise, a hum against his mouth, sliding his tongue against Martino’s, slow and careful, taking his time. 

Reaching over, Martino’s hands fell to the back of Nico’s neck as they kissed, as heat curled in his stomach, like it had the other night in the pool.

This whole weekend was insane, he thought as Niccolò smiled against his mouth, pressing kisses down his jaw instead, laughing when Martino ducked his head, grinning. It felt like something out of a dream, a fantasy he might have had about Gio not too long ago, but this was real. This was really Niccolò, flicking his eyes to meet Martino’s, warm and soft, like he wanted to be there just as much as Martino did.

“Ni,” he said as they leaned back against the headboard, and Nico’s finger traced shapes on his arm.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad I met you,” he said, watching Nico pause, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced at Martino.

“Me too,” he said, meeting Martino’s lips for a kiss, just a kiss, but it made Martino’s heart beat faster as if it somehow meant more, so easy, so simple.

Martino had begun to think he’d have to pretend to like girls forever, would never find someone like Niccolò, and even if he couldn’t tell anyone, at least he knew Nico was here.

All that mattered was that right now, he was lying next to Niccolò and he’d get to wake up next to Niccolò, and they’d get to spend all day together again tomorrow. That was all he wanted right now, all he needed.

He caught Nico’s smile as he shifted closer so their legs touched, pressed together, and their shoulders met, warm where they touched.

Martino would be happy if they could just stay here forever, and at the moment, it felt like maybe they could.


	46. Nico's POV in Bracciano

Even under all his layers, Niccolò can feel his heart beating a nervous rhythm in his chest as he climbs out of the car, facing the dimly-lit house, everything else dark and cold as he heads for the front porch, hands in his pockets, trying to convince himself that things are going to be okay, that he will somehow be able to convince Marti that he’s not just some flaky asshole who runs away every time he gets scared.

Martino is the one who told him to do something, to make a decision, and begging to borrow the car from his mom and drive all the way up here is definitely a decision. He just hopes it wasn’t all in vain.

Martino opens the glass door separating them and Niccolò steps inside the warmth of the house, not really glancing around, too busy watching Martino, trying to determine if he’s angry or sad or if he shouldn’t have bothered to come at all. Maybe Martino has already decided he doesn’t want this, has already decided he’s not worth it.

Niccolò wouldn’t blame him. After all, he’s been pretty terrible about things. Martino had seemed so sad last week in the hall, like he wasn’t even there, didn’t even want to look at him.

“Your friends?” Niccolò asks as they stand in the entranceway. A fire crackles to his left, but there’s no one there.

“They went out,” Martino replies, and Niccolò isn’t sure what to do. 

When Martino had sent that text, Niccolò had felt his stomach go cold, a pure shot of fear when he said he didn’t want to mess around with a guy who had a girlfriend. He couldn’t lose Martino, not like this.

Nico knows he doesn’t deserve another chance with Marti, but he’s there and Martino is standing in front of him, and he has to say something.

Martino moves first, though, breaking the barrier between them, kissing Niccolò, almost catching him off-guard. For a second, Nico isn’t sure this is real, that Marti really wants this. It’s been weeks since they’ve really been together, weeks that Niccolò has spent agonizing over everything that’s happened between them.

He doesn’t quite believe it, not until Martino’s hands cup his face and he kisses him again, filled with desire and warmth and forgiveness somehow, and Nico feels like he can breath again as he reaches for Marti, kisses him back, and they stumble down the hall.

His heart swells in his chest, hope blossoming again as Martino smiles against his lips, relief tugging at his mind as he clings to Martino, pours all his feelings into a kiss. If he can’t say it with words, he’ll say it some other way.

He loves that Martino smiles every time he pulls away, keeps coming back for more even as Niccolò struggles to get off his scarf, shed his coat and shirt as Martino does the same, reaching for his face, pulling Martino back so he can kiss him again.

Niccolò isn’t going to screw it up, not again. He won’t let himself, he thinks as he moves to Martino’s neck and slides down to his knees.

*

Martino sighs, his head on Nico’s shoulder, lying on the bed in only shirts and their underwear. Niccolò can’t help himself, carding a hand through Martino’s hair and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“We should get dressed,” Martino says, but he doesn’t move. 

Nico doesn’t want to move either, sliding down so he’s face to face with Martino, sweeping his thumb across his cheek. He can’t help gazing at him through the darkness, the moonlight coming in through the window, falling over the mattress.

They still haven’t talked. Nico hasn’t told him about Maddalena, how he’d broken up with her once he figured out where the rumors had started. She’d told Emma, of all people. She said it was to protect Emma, but he thinks it might have been out of anger at him for doing all this.

And he knows, he knows he made a mistake. He cheated on her, left her in a bar to be with Martino, did everything the wrong way, but revenge is just too petty even for her.

“The guys will be back soon,” Martino said, watching Niccolò just the same in the darkness.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks, unsure for a second, even though he’s lying in Martino’s arms.

“No, no,” Martino says, shaking his head, leaning into his mouth for a kiss. “We’ll get up in a minute.”

Niccolò nods, smiling at Martino, unable to stop his fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. They’ll talk about everything in a minute, in just a minute.


	47. The Boys Interrupt Marti & Nico

Stretching back on the mattress, Martino sucked in a breath, fingers curling into the sheets as Niccolò moved from his favorite spot at Martino’s neck, leaving behind a purple bruise that Martino could almost feel, skin tingling and sensitive as Nico’s breath ghosted over the spot.

Niccolò’s mouth slid down, tongue tracing his collarbone as Martino arched up into him. Nico was moving arduously slowly, lingering on every bit of skin today, licking over the dip between his neck and collarbone, flicking his tongue over Martino’s nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

Martino cursed, forcing his hands to release the sheets and tangle in Nico’s hair instead, already so hard and Nico hadn’t even touched him.

They were down to their underwear already, spread out on the big bed in the lake house, sunlight streaming in the window, tree leaves rustling outside, blue sky peppered with white fluffy clouds. They had hours until the rest of the guys arrived, and Nico seemed determined to take advantage of every minute.

“Fuck, Ni,” Martino breathed as Nico smoothed his hands down his thighs, shuffling so their hips were aligned and Martino sucked in breath at the heat stealing over his skin.

Niccolò grinned, moving up to kiss him properly, hot and hard, and Martino clung to his shoulders, face heating up, biting at his lips, unwilling to let him move away yet despite Nico’s hands gripping the backs of his thighs.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

The door sprang open before Martino could process the voice ringing in the hallway, and he jerked away from Nico as Luca barged in, followed closely by Elia and Gio. Niccolò didn’t seem quite as embarrassed, not scrambling to yank a pillow over his erection like Martino did, sinking down beside him, bunching sheets in front of him instead, and glancing at Martino, who felt his face going red.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded as Elia and Gio peered over Luca’s shoulder at them. Luca’s mouth merely dropped open as he stared, and Martino wished he wouldn’t.

A smirk grew on Gio’s face, satisfied as he nodded at them both.

“It’s a nice day. We wanted to come out early,” Luca said, but a glance at Elia and Gio made Martino doubtful.

“Nice undies, Marti,” Elia said, his grin taking over his entire face.

“I’m going to kill you,” Martino said, looking at Gio, who shrugged.

“Karma’s a bitch, bro. The tables have turned.”

“Damn, you’re so ripped, Nico,” Luca said, and Martino buried his face in his hands as Niccolò laughed beside him, unable to stop himself, hiding his face in Martino’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Luchino,” he said finally, and Marti glared at all of them.

“Would you mind leaving so we can get dressed?”

Despite everything, he still had a hard-on, and he doubted the pillow was making that fact less obvious. 

Elia didn’t bother to hide his laughter, elbow perched on Luca’s shoulder. “Is this what you guys do when you’re alone? And here I thought those bruises were only ever on your neck.”

Martino slapped a hand to his collarbone, suddenly very aware of all the other faded bruises littering his body that Elia probably could see and was now looking for as he let his eyes wander over his chest.

“Would you stop that?” he hissed, and Gio tugged at Elia’s arm.

“Come on, guys, let’s at least let them put on clothes.”

Luca and Elia both went reluctantly, and Martino let out a sigh, but Gio paused at the door, glancing back.

“There better not be any stains on those sheets.”

Martino threw the pillow at him as the door closed, and he huffed, rubbing his forehead. When he looked up, he found Niccolò smiling at him.

“What?”

“They care so much about you,” he said, brushing Martino’s hair back, not sliding off the bed to get dressed quite yet.

“They’re assholes,” Martino replied, frowning. “And I hate them.”

Nico laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. “No, you don’t.”

Martino would have argued, but he didn’t have to as Elia’s voice came through the door.

“You get three minutes or we’re coming back in!”

“Okay,” Nico agreed, kissing him again and sliding off the bed. “We better get dressed.”

Groaning, Martino collapsed back on the bed. Gio was right. Karma was a bitch.


	48. Marti's Bad Day

It had been a bad day. No, scratch that. It had been a bad week.

Exams loomed on the horizon, sending even the laziest student into a frenzy, and Martino was pretty sure his brain was about to explode. To make matters worse, his dad kept trying to get him to meet, and no matter how many excuses he gave, he kept asking. And on top of everything, he had to listen to Luca’s continual monologue about how pretty Silvia was on a daily basis and it was driving him crazy.

How could Luca even think about anything but studying? Martino had spent every evening this week buried up to his nose in his textbooks, trying to cram as much information into his brain as possible.

He hadn’t even see Nico outside of school because he couldn’t have Niccolo over and study at the same time. It just wasn’t possible. And if he didn’t pass the exam, he wouldn’t be finishing school. Martino had no intention of repeating a year.

“But she’s so beautiful,” Luca said as they stood outside school, and Martino was already thinking of all the work he had to do once he got home. He didn’t care about whatever new thing Luchino had found to love about Silvia was. Last week, it was her hair. Yesterday, it was her smile. He didn’t care.

Elia and Gio seemed to find it all amusing, but it was getting on Martino’s last nerve, every time he had to hear her name.

Martino could feel his eyes rolling back in his head as Luca went on, listing every one of Silvia’s good qualities (Martino hadn’t know a person could have that many).

“Christ, Luchino, will you stop talking about Silvia?” he said finally, interrupting the long list. Luca’s eyes went wide, along with both Elia and Gio’s eyebrows rising in surprise. “She doesn’t want to sleep with you. No one will ever want to sleep with you if you don’t stop being so pathetic!”

Huffing, Martino slung his bag over his shoulder and storming away. 

He couldn’t stand listening to it anymore. If Luca wasn’t going to fucking do anything about it, he needed to stop talking about it.

By the time he got home, he was already rethinking his outburst, the confused look on Luca’s face. He was an asshole.

His mom was home when he got there, kicking off his shoes by the front door and dragging himself past where she sat on the couch.

“Your dad called,” she said, and he grimaced.

“Still talking about me, huh?” he asked. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to about his dad, especially when she gave him that look, that look that somehow meant he should still give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t see how she could be on his side.

“He just wants to see you.”

“I don’t have time,” Martino snapped before he could stop himself. “I have end-of-year exams to study for. You don’t want me to fail, do you?”

She didn’t reply, only sighing, and he felt a wave of guilt at his response.

“I’m going to go study,” he said instead, turning from her and heading for his room, making sure to shut the door tightly.

His phone buzzed with a message, from Gio, asking if everything was okay. Rubbing his forehead, Martino collapsed on his bed and set the phone face-down on the table. He didn’t want to think about what he’d said to Luca. Lucas hadn’t deserved that, but Martino couldn’t think about him right now. Instead, his book bag stared at him from across the room, taunting him with all the information it contained, information that felt like it was leaking out of his brain with every minute that passed.

Huffing, Martino flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He just wanted this to be over. School, exams, everything.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but the sun had begun to set when there was a knock on the door.

“I don’t want to talk, Mama,” he said, pushing himself up as the door opened anyway. He sighed, preparing to be annoyed, but he paused as Niccolò appeared. “Oh, what are you doing here?”

Nico closed the door behind him, coming over to sit next to Martino on the bed. “The boys said you stormed off after school.”

Martino let his head fall on Nico’s shoulder as he sighed. “I was a complete dick to Luca.”

He didn’t have to look to know Nico was smiling, feeling Nico’s fingers stroking his hair.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Everyone’s stressed about exams.”

“But everyone doesn’t yell at their friends about it.” Gio would never yell at Luca. Even Elia, who rolled his eyes at Luca more times a day than anyone, he wouldn’t do that.

“More than a couple people broke down crying last year,” Niccolò said, leaning his head against Martino’s.

“Crying is different than yelling.” Martino didn’t know why he always did that, always held things in until they exploded. Couldn’t have a normal conversation about things that bothered him.

Even though things were better now, even though he’d learned how to deal with the hard times, he wasn’t perfect. He still got annoyed at his mom about stupid things. He still sometimes wished he had two normal parents. He always hated himself when he thought it.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nico said, tilting Martino’s chin up so he could look him in the eye. “You have a lot to deal with.”

Martino shook his head. “It’s not an excuse. I need to be better about handling things.” He was surprised when Nico pressed a kiss to his lips. “What was that for?”

“You don’t get better overnight,” he said simply, lips tilting into a smile. “You learn from your mistakes and you grow over time.”

Martino let his forehead rest against Niccolò’s, closing his eyes for a second. He felt better just having Nico there, someone to ground him and remind him that exams weren’t the end of the world, that he’d get through this somehow. Nico did so he could too.

“Do you want me to help you study?” Niccolò asked when Martino opened his eyes finally.

“Actually study?” he asked, watching Nico grin.

“Actually study,” Nico assured him, kissing him once before sliding off the bed to grab Martino’s bag. “Have to make sure you get into Uni.”

As Nico dumped the books on the bed, Martino scooted back, breathing a sigh of relief, glad he had Niccolò to help him, for studying and for other things.


	49. Nico's Mom Calls Martino

Raising teenagers was exhausting, Anna thought as she lingered in Niccolò’s doorway, watching the way he slumped over his desk. She hadn’t planned on it being heartbreaking too, and the worst part was that there was nothing she could do to help.

She had learned the hard way that she couldn’t force Niccolò to feel better, couldn’t force him to talk about what was bothering him. Sometimes, it wasn’t even something she could control or that he could explain.

“Nico,” she said gently, watching him stir, as though coming out of a dream, as if he hadn’t even been looking at the textbook open before him. “Do you want any dinner?”

He shook his head without speaking and she frowned. That was usually the start of it, responding silently, as if he was shutting himself down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, not leaving the doorway just yet.

It could be anything, and she never knew how to predict it, predict those moods of Niccolò’s. She doubted he did either, but she was his mother. She was supposed to be able to protect him.

Niccolò jerked his head, sighing heavily down at his textbook. There was a slump to his shoulders, not his usual alertness, so attuned to everything that was going on around him most days.

Anna hated this. She hated not being able to do anything. Deep down, she knew it would pass. It always did, but she wished there was something she could do.

Stepping away, she left the door ajar, heading into the living room and sighing into the emptiness. It had been a long time since she could draw Niccolò into her arms and hug away the sadness. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

There was only one thing she knew that might make any difference, and she pulled out her phone, dialing a now-familiar number and listening to it ring before the click.

*

“Martino.” She greeted him as she opened the door to Martino standing there, hands in his pockets, looking a little nervous, and she didn’t blame him.

The first time they’d met, she hadn’t been the friendliest, but they’d met after that, and she’d apologized for how she’d reacted. Still, it wasn’t as if she was keen to be best friends with her son’s boyfriend. Not after how Niccolò had reacted to Maddalena telling them everything. He’d had a point then, that they shouldn’t be conspiring together, even if it was for his own good.

“Anna,” he replied, stepping inside when she opened the door wider.

“He’s in his room,” she said as they lingered in the entryway. “I don’t know what it is this time, but I thought maybe you might make him feel better.”

If there was one thing she knew about her son, it was how much he cared about Martino. Martino, the boy who made him smile, the boy he loved to talk about in his good moods, the boy he actually shared with her, showing her photos, telling her stories. It had been so long since Niccolò had shared things like that with her.

Martino smiled as he nodded, and she felt a tiny ripple of relief, as though she knew she’d made the right decision.

Martino turned to head down the hall, but he paused, glancing back. “Thanks,” he said, “for calling.”

Anna nodded, following him to the bedroom, watching Martino pause in the doorway.

“Ni?” he asked, softly, and Niccolò’s head rose from his desk, slowly, as if Martino’s voice woke him up, turning to face him, eyes glassy.

Anna watched Martino cross the room and pull Niccolò into a hug. She saw Nico sigh, as if he was letting out his feelings with Martino wrapped around him. Smiling to herself, she reached for the doorknob and pulled it shut, pausing with her hand pressed against the wood.

Raising a teenager was exhausting, but knowing there was still something she could do to help made it all worth it.


	50. Marti & Nico Decide their Anniversary

“What do you want to do next week?” Niccolò asked, pulling Martino’s notebook from his hands and climbing into his lap on the bed. Martino didn’t even argue, setting his hands on Nico’s hips.

“For Halloween?”

Niccolò made a face, shaking his head as he stroked over Martino’s cheeks. “Our first anniversary and you’ve already forgotten!”

Martino stared up at him, mouth falling open. “Our anniversary isn’t for another month,” he argued, and Nico shook his head.

“Halloween was our first kiss,” he said, leaning into Martino’s mouth, and Martino couldn’t help smiling into the kiss, shaking his head as Nico moved back.

“But we didn’t get together officially until after everything.”

“Everything,” Niccolò repeated thoughtfully, kissing Martino again, deeper, and Martino felt it down to his toes this time. “So you think it’s not until December?”

“Did you really think I would forget it?”

Niccolò shook his head, gazing down at him, warmth passing between them. It had been a whirlwind year, that was for sure, but Martino would have traded a minute of it.

“So what do we do?” Nico asked, pushing Martino’s hair back. “Is it Halloween or is it December?”

Martino smiled, hands anchored at Nico’s waist. “You choose.”

Niccolò thought for a minute, fingers stroking down Martino’s neck absently, mouth twisting as he considered the options. Martino let his eyes fall over the freckles on Nico’s nose, his dark eyebrows, the individual eyelashes as his eyes flick to Martino’s.

“Halloween,” he said finally, nodding as though he’d decided.

“Okay,” Martino agreed, smiling as Nico leaned into him.

“Because it was the start of everything, the start of us.”

Martino couldn’t argue with that, and he didn’t want to as he kissed Niccolò, sliding a hand to the back of his neck to keep him there.

“So should we pay a visit to Renato?” he asked after a minute, lips tingling when Nico pulled away. “Or do you know some other creepy abandoned pool we can sneak into?”

“I was thinking something a little more romantic,” Niccolò said, pressing kisses down Martino’s jaw. “Like a picnic in the catacombs.”

Martino laughed, shoving Nico back. “Who taught you how to be romantic?”

“You don’t like that?” Niccolò asked, pretending to think for a minute. “Then how about dinner, just us, in some tiny, ridiculously romantic, restaurant, and then we can go back to my place--my parents are going to Umbria again--and there will be rose petals all over the bed, and we can do anything we want with the whole house to ourselves.”

Martino tilted his head to meet Nico’s lips as he smiled. “Now you’ve got my hopes up.”

Niccolò grinned, kissing him easily. “Good.”

It didn’t matter what day they chose, Martino thought, wrapping his arms around Nico’s waist and pulling him closer. Every day he was with Niccolò was good enough for him.


	51. Marti Reflects on Nico's Suaveness

Martino watched as Niccolò pulled a cigarette out of the pack, laughing at something Luchino was saying, hitting his teeth with the cigarette and Martino paused. He’d seen that before, a long time ago.

“What are you smiling at?” Nico asked as he lit the cigarette, and Martino shook his head.

“For a while, I thought you were so smooth,” he said, and Nico arched a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m not?”

“Are you kidding? You’re a giant dork who loves giraffes and Wes Anderson movies,” Martino replied, laughing at Nico’s insulted expression. “But I love that about you.”

Nico exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. “Why did you think I was cool then?”

Martino smiled, leaning back against the wall, afternoon sunlight filtering down through the trees just like it had that day Martino had seen him out the classroom window.

“You probably don’t remember, but before we got together, there was this one time I saw you through a window and you looked so cool somehow, with your cigarette, all mysterious and unreachable.”

A few months ago, Martino would never have admitted something so embarrassing, admit that he’d stared so blatantly at Nico before he even knew that he was interested. It made him sound like a stalker.

He remembered the moment so vividly, though, the way his heart had beat faster at even the sight of Niccolò, as if it had known how badly he was going to fall for him before he had.

Nico smiled around his cigarette, pulling it from between his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them. Maybe he hadn’t lost all of his smoothness, Martino thought.

“I remember,” he said, pressing his shoulder up against Martino’s. The rest of the boys were arguing over what to do this weekend, but Martino wasn’t paying them any attention, more interested in the fact that Niccolò actually remembered such an insignificant moment in their history.

“You do?”

Nico smiled. “You think I didn’t spend every minute looking for you? I knew the first time I saw you that something was going to happen.”

“So you just happened to show up outside my class? With your stupid cigarette, trying to look cool?”

“Yes,” Nico said, sliding an arm around his shoulders and flicking the ash off the end of the cigarette. “I happened to see some guys from my class by your window, and maybe I was trying to be cool and not make an idiot out of myself.”

Martino laughed, reaching for Nico’s jaw. “You didn’t. I was the idiot staring.”

“You weren’t the only one,” Nico assured him. “All I ever thought about then was kissing you.”

“Really?” Martino leaned into him, an invitation that Nico didn’t hesitate to take advantage of, kissing him easily, letting his lips linger against Martino’s for a second.

“Not that that’s changed much,” Nico whispered, and Martino laughed.

“Hey!” Elia interrupted them. “Stop making out for a second. Are you guys coming to the bar or not?”

Martino glanced at Niccolò, who shrugged, crushing the cigarette under his toe. “Yeah, we’re coming,” he said, sliding his arm around Nico’s waist and turning with the guys. Maybe Niccolò wasn’t as cool as he’d once thought, but what he was was much better.


	52. Nico's Past Comes Back

“Gio was talking about going to the lake house this weekend,” Martino said, licking a drip of his gelato and watching Niccolò across the tiny table. The day was one of those unbearably hot days and the streets were packed with tourists. Martino smiled at the beading of sweat at Nico’s temple.

“Sounds fun,” Nico replied, licking at his finger as his gelato dripped down.

“You’re a mess,” Martino teased him, grabbing a napkin and forcing it into Nico’s free hand.

“That’s how you’re supposed to enjoy it,” Niccolò argued, ignoring the napkin and continuing his entirely inappropriate licking of his fingers.

“Is it?” Martino asked. “So I should just let it melt and then lick it off?” He had no intention of wasting his ice cream in such a way. Not on such a hot day.

The gelateria didn’t have much of a line, tucked away in a corner of Rome. Niccolò had insisted they go to this one, that it had “the best fruit flavors in Rome” despite the fact that Martino always got chocolate. Martino didn’t care which gelateria it was. He was just glad it was summer, and he could spend as much time as he wanted with Niccolò without anyone caring about his studies.

“Yes,” Nico responded to his question. “I’d love to see you lick it off.”

Grinning, Martino shook his head. “Maybe later.”

Niccolò laughed, but as Martino watched him, his smile died as he caught sight of someone behind Martino.

Twisting, Martino frowned at the group of boys who had just entered the gelateria, about their age, talking and laughing with each other. Glancing back at Niccolò, he noticed the way Nico seemed to shrink, as if trying to become invisible.

“Ni?” he asked, frowning, looking back at the boys.

The guys, four of them, were elbowing each other, loud and boisterous as they headed for the counter. Martino didn’t recognize them at all, and he didn’t understand why Nico was carefully avoiding looking at them, as if they might not see him sitting right there.

“You never pay for anything!” one of them said, laughing at the other. “Always such a mooch.”

The guys got their gelato, and Martino was careful not to say anything, watching the way Niccolò slouched down in his chair. He obviously didn’t want the guys to notice him, and he seemed to freeze as one did.

For a second, the whole shop fell silent, and Martino frowned, glancing back and forth between them. Who were they?

Niccolò opened his mouth, like maybe he was going to say something, but he didn’t, retreating into his shoulders, looking both scared and guilty.

“Let’s go,” one of the guys said as the awkward silence stretched, and it wasn’t until the door shut behind them that Niccolò exhaled, as if he hadn’t been breathing this whole time.

“What the hell was that?” Martino asked, craning his neck to watch the group disappear down the street. Turning back to Nico, he shot him a look. “Who were they?”

Nico grabbed the napkin off the table, wiping at his fingers where his ice cream had dripped in the time he’d been distracted. He didn’t quite meet Martino’s gaze as he sighed.

“They were my friends,” he said finally. “Back before I changed schools.”

Martino hadn’t heard much about Niccolò’s life before he transfered, except about his diagnosis. Nico didn’t talk much about it, but Martino supposed he must have had friends. He was an outgoing, friendly kind of guy.

“So they’re not now?” he asked, taking Nico’s hand from where he was twisting the napkin into a ball, squeezing reassuringly.

Niccolò looked up, mouth twisted into a frown, as though he was remembering something bad. Martino knew that look by now, the start of a spiral.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly. “You had a life before me. I know that.”

Niccolò swallowed, shaking his head, squeezing Martino’s hand back. “I want to tell you, just I’m not ready yet. It’s… it’s kind of embarrassing, and a little humiliating.”

Martino nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said simply, smiling when Nico looked at him. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

Niccolò nodded too, trying to smile. “I guess I didn’t enjoy my gelato properly.” He glanced at the dripping cone, halfway melted.

“It’s okay,” Martino assured him, taking his hand back finally as more people entered the shop. “I know something else you can lick.”

Martino got the response he was looking for as Niccolò smiled for real this time, watching him fondly, as though he couldn’t quite believe Martino was real. Martino felt the same way some days, as if Nico was too good to be true, as if he couldn’t believe that Niccolò wanted to be with him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Martino said, rising from the chair and waiting for Niccolò to join him, a hand on his elbow as they left the shop and stepped into the hot sun. Nico bumped against his shoulder, nodding at Martino when he looked over.

“You know I love you,” he said, and Martino smiled. He’d never get over Nico saying that.

“I love you too,” he told him, turning away from the main street and heading for home instead.


	53. After the Pool

Martino’s heart is still racing, still racing as the bike glides to a stop in front of Nico’s building and they climb off it. His clothes are dripping, even after the ride back from the pool, and Nico grins at him through the darkness as he locks his bike to a pole on the street.

“Come upstairs,” he says, stepping up to Martino, close enough that Martino can see the way he smiles through the darkness, the only light on the street a lamp in the distance. The one above the door flickers on and off, and as it goes off, Nico leans in and kisses him.

Martino feels pulled into it, into Nico, as if he couldn’t turn away if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He wants to keep kissing Nico like this forever, and the thought doesn’t even scare him.

“Okay,” he agrees when Nico’s lips part from his, and Nico smiles, grabbing his hand as the light flickers back on.

He doesn’t ask where Nico’s parents are, if they’re home, but Nico doesn’t bother keeping quiet as they head for his room. Martino’s hand tingles in Nico’s, his heart fluttering in the same stupid way it had back at the pool when Nico had kissed him for the first time.

It had felt surreal then, and it feels surreal now as Nico rummages in his drawers, coming up with a clean tee shirt and tossing it to Martino. Martino catches it, barely, distracted by thoughts of Nico’s tongue in his mouth, Nico’s hands on the back of his neck.

“You probably should get out of those wet clothes,” Nico says, stepping up to Martino and grinning at him, bright and brilliant, like he’s just as exhilarated that Marti is there, like it’s taking all his restraint not to kiss him again. “I’ll be right back.”

Martino watches Nico head for the bathroom, craning his neck until the door shuts behind him. Nico is probably right, he thinks, looking down at his dripping clothes, and he shucks them off, careful not to let them fall in a slushy pile on the floor, hanging them over the chair instead, and he pulls on the shirt Nico gave him, the shorts that are a bit too short, and he tugs them down as Nico returns, also changed into dry clothes.

“Better?” Nico asks, and he doesn’t stop himself from stepping into Martino’s space this time, the same grin on his face, as though he knows that Martino’s heart is beating faster, and something warmer passes between them, something softer as Nico leans in and kisses him.

Martino could do this forever. He could kiss Nico for the rest of his life, he thinks, bringing a hand to Nico’s jaw and shivering when Nico’s hand lands on the small of his back. This is exactly what he wants to do for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t want to pretend to like Emma, pretend to care that a girl is pretty or fuckable or whatever else his friends say about them. He doesn’t care about any of that, and in this moment, it’s so fucking obvious why.

Nico pulls back just barely, just enough that he can bump Martino’s nose with his and smile that adorably wide smile at him.

“Want to stay over? My parents are gone all weekend.”

Something bubbles up in Martino’s chest, hope and excitement and a sense that this is exactly right as he nods, unable to stop his grin.

“Okay,” he agrees, and he loves that Nico kisses him again, softer this time, as if he wants to be sure this is real.

It’s the most real Martino has ever felt in his life, and he doesn’t stop smiling the whole time they climb into bed, not when Nico scoots closer so they’re practically touching everywhere, as if he doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t stop smiling as Nico reaches for him, not hesitant as his fingers drift over his jaw, down his neck, tickling his skin. Instead, he buries his smile in the pillow, hearing Nico’s soft laughter.

He hears the click of the light and brings his face up to watch Nico across from him. Nico doesn’t speak for a moment, as though he’s absorbing the moment just like Martino is. There’s warmth in his gaze, even in the dark, and as they lay together, warm and cozy in bed, Martino thinks that nothing could be better than this.


	54. Marti Goes to the Movie w/Nico & Maddie

Niccolò wasn’t watching the movie. He hadn’t been paying attention since it had started, since Maddalena had gone silent and he’d been left alone with his thoughts.

Except he wasn’t alone. He was sitting next to Martino, and his eyes were resting on Martino’s hand on the arm rest between them. It would have been so easy to reach out in the dark, to accidentally let their fingers touch in the solitude of the movie theater.

But he couldn’t.

For one, Maddalena was right there, and for another, he’d just kissed her in front of Martino.

He hadn’t really been thinking when he’d done it, like a reflex, and it hadn’t been until he’d caught sight of Martino’s face afterwards, the sudden shift, that he thought maybe he shouldn’t have.

Glancing over, Niccolò tried to catch Martino’s eye, but Martino was staring straight ahead at the screen, unblinking as though maybe he wasn’t altogether focused either. He wished there was a way to tell, but Nico had dug this hole and now he had to sit in it.

“Isn’t this good?” Maddalena whispered on his other side, reaching for his hand, and he let her twine their fingers together.

“Yeah,” he agreed, though he had no idea what was happening in the movie.

He just kept thinking about Martino. Not an hour ago had they been sitting around his kitchen, laughing, joking, and now Martino sat stiffly next to him as though waiting for the moment he could escape.

This wasn’t how Nico had wanted things to go. Martino wasn’t supposed to think that he and Maddie were a problem. After all, they barely had sex anymore. She was always busy with school, and since Nico had seen Marti all those months ago, he honestly hadn’t thought about anything but him.

Martino didn’t know that, though. Martino just thought he had a girlfriend, which he did. He did have a girlfriend, he reminded himself. Even if Martino was interested, even if Martino was interested in guys, or him in particular, he was dating Maddalena. A part of him didn’t want to be, but she’d never let go without a airtight reason.

Taking a chance, Niccolò leaned over into Martino’s ear. “I still think we should have gone for the romance movie,” he whispered, seeing Martino’s head jerk, at his mouth close enough to ghost over his ear.

“Romance movies?” Martino whispered back, and Nico wasn’t sure if he was surprised or skeptical.

“I like romance.” Niccolò watched Martino, but Martino didn’t react, and he had to turn back when Maddie squeezed his arm and shushed him.

Maybe this had been a huge mistake, inviting Martino with them. From the way Martino pulled his arms to himself, Nico wasn’t sure he even wanted to be there. Of course he’d fucked it up already.

All he wanted to do was talk to Marti, to be around him. He felt so _good_ when he was around Martino, as if he didn’t have to try. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. 

Sinking into his seat, Nico didn’t try to talk to Martino again after that, but he’d get another chance, and next time, he would take it.


	55. If Marti Saw Nico in the Hospital

Martino knew no one wanted him there. Niccolò’s parents had all but tried to force him onto a train home, and Maddalena kept shooting him worrying looks from across the hospital waiting room. But Martino wasn’t going anywhere, not until he knew Nico was okay, not until someone told him what the hell was going on.

“You can see him,” a nurse had told him once Nico’s parents had finally left the room, finally let Martino go in after hours and hours of waiting, of wondering, of heart-pounding anxiety that he couldn’t shake. He’d spent the night curled up on an uncomfortable chair, waiting.

The door squeaked as Martino pushed it open, taking a deep breath as he stepped inside.

Something had to be terribly wrong. Martino had known it from the minute Nico had left the apartment. He should have known sooner, he’d thought as he sat miserably in the lobby. Niccolò had been acting weird since that morning, but Martino hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared because they finally got to be together, alone, and it was all his heart had wanted for weeks.

He should have known.

Nico was sitting up when Martino stepped inside, all his energy from yesterday drained away, and he lifted his gaze to Martino, almost afraid.

“Ni,” Martino said, quiet, afraid to disturb the silence in the room. “Are you okay?”

He caught the tear Niccolò brushed away, the way he swallowed thickly and didn’t answer straight away.

After a minute, Nico nodded, not meeting Martino’s eyes, and Martino felt his stomach clench. It was bad, whatever it was. Bad enough that Nico hadn’t told him.

Taking a breath, Martino steeled himself. “What is it?”

Another tear fell from Nico’s eye, and Martino’s hand twitched, aching to reach out and make everything okay, but he had to understand first. He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t be in the dark about what was going on.

“It’s called Borderline Personality Disorder,” Nico said finally, voice quiet. “I was diagnosed a few years ago.”

Martino had no idea what that meant, but it couldn’t be good from how Nico had acted last night. Martino could still feel the cold fear gripping him, the panic as he stood in the bitter cold, trying to force his brain to work, to come up with a solution. Maddalena had been the only one he could think of in the moment, the only person who might know what to do.

“What does that mean exactly?”

Nico sighed, heavy, as though the effort of talking, of sitting up even, was difficult. “Sometimes… sometimes it’s like I can’t control everything in my brain. I do impulsive things without thinking. I get too attached too fast, to the point where I can’t tell if things are real or if I’m just making it all up. And sometimes I get… depressed for no reason and I can’t control it.” He looked up finally, eyes shining with tears, and Martino felt a knife stabbing into his gut, wrenching painfully. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

That hurt more than anything, and Martino swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Why?”

A million thoughts ran through his mind at the same time as he watched Nico smooth out the sheet, fingers shaking as though he couldn’t control them. Did this mean everything with Nico had been a lie? Was Nico just obsessed with him for the time being? Had none of it been real?

“I was afraid you would leave,” Niccolò admitted finally, talking to his knees. “I was afraid you would think I was broken. You said your mom was depressed and it was better if, if…” He stopped, sniffing away another tear and bowing his head.

Fuck. Martino remembered what he’d said all those weeks ago in the bathroom, a stupid throwaway comment he hadn’t really meant. He’d never realized, never put two and two together until just now, seeing Nico’s face crumple as he remembered those words.

“Ni,” he said quickly, shaking his head, reaching for Nico’s face, brushing away the tear trickling down his cheek. “I never should have said that. I’m sorry.”

Nico’s mouth twitched and he took a shaky breath, hands wrapping around Martino’s wrists and holding on as if he didn’t quite believe he was there. “Everyone tried to convince me it wasn’t real, but it’s always been real. More real than anything else in my life. I need you to know that.”

Nico lifted his gaze to Martino’s finally, eyes watery, shining clear in the bright hospital lights, a crease of worry in his brow.

Martino didn’t know anything about Borderline Personality Disorder. He didn’t know what that meant for Niccolò, if he would ever get to live a normal, worry-free life, what he had to deal with that Martino would never understand, if Martino could even do anything. What he did know was that it was real for him too.

“Hey,” he said softly, a smile making its way to his face, a feeling of relief washing over him despite the fact that they were in a hospital, Nico tucked into a bed with military corners. “We’ll get through this. One minute at a time.”

Martino kissed away the frown on Nico’s face, gentle, careful as he leaned in. Pulling Nico into a hug, he felt Nico’s exhale, as though he’d been holding it in this entire time, as though he could finally breathe with Martino holding onto him.

Martino only knew one thing. Niccolò needed him, wanted him, and he wasn’t going to let go this time.


	56. Marti & Nico Slowdance

“They are so cute,” Silvia said, face all scrunched up as she watched Martino and Niccolò on the dance floor, soft lights swirling around the couples as a slow song played over the speakers. Martino and Nico swayed to the music, arms around each other.

“They’re not cute,” Elia argued from behind her, swigging back his beer. “They do this all the time.”

“They’re dancing,” she replied firmly, as though that meant something different. “It’s romantic.”

“I can dance with you,” Luca said eagerly, and Silvia shot him a skeptical look.

“Luchino,” Gio said with a sigh as Silvia left without answering him, crossing the room to where Eva and the other girls were gathered around the drinks table.

“I don’t get it,” Luca said, gesturing at Silvia. “She thinks Marti and Nico are adorable but she won’t dance with me?”

Gio shrugged, patting his shoulder. Glancing out at the dance floor, he smiled at the way Martino and Nico were pressed together, as if the rest of the world didn’t matter.

“They’re not adorable,” Elia said, coming up and setting his elbow on Luca’s shoulder, peering out at the dance floor. “That’s just how they are. They can barely keep their hands off each other.”

Gio nodded in agreement. “I’m surprised they don’t slow dance in their living rooms.”

“We can hear you,” Martino spoke up, pulling back from Nico, arms draped around his neck, shooting them all a glare.

“Good,” Elia called, tipping his beer to them. “So answer the question. Do you do this in the living room?”

“You guys are such assholes,” Martino replied instead of answering.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Elia said simply despite Martino’s eye roll.

“You wish you were as cute as us,” Niccolò said, nuzzling into Martino’s neck, arms tightening around his waist.

“Any tips?” Luca asked, flinching when Elia punched him in the arm.

“Pull yourself together, Luchino,” he said, yanking him over and pointing him towards Silvia. “You walk up to her and tell her that you like her.”

“Don’t do that,” Gio said, shoving Elia. “What you need to do is actually ask her to dance. Not randomly volunteer.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Gio gestured at Martino and Nico. “I’m the Love Wizard, remember?”

Elia rolled his eyes, but Luca’s lit up.

“Okay, I’m gonna do it.”

“You do it, Luchi,” Gio said firmly, patting him on the back as he headed for Silvia on the other side of the room.

“You’ve sent him to his death,” Elia said from beside him, and Gio shook his head.

“If I can make that happen,” he said, nodding at Martino and Niccolò, “then I can make Silvia happen for Luchino.”

Elia sighed. “As long as they don’t turn out as gross as those two.”

“We can still hear you,” Martino said from the dance floor, but Gio and Elia merely stood to the side as they swayed to the music, holding each other tight.


	57. Marti Insecure About the Future

Martino flopped down on the couch before Nico could even get his shoes off, shutting the door to their tiny student apartment behind them.

“Are you okay?” Nico asked as he joined Martino on the couch, curling up beside him and watching as Martino sighed.

“I’m fine,” Martino replied, but he didn’t meet Niccolò’s gaze. It was stupid anyway. He knew it was stupid, but that didn’t stop him from feeling this way as he pulled out his phone.

“Marti,” Nico said, voice gentle, fingers sliding down his neck, and Martino shook him off, heading for the tiny fridge instead and pulling out a bottle of beer.

Irrational, that was what his brain said as he cracked open the beer. “It’s nothing,” he said even though he knew Niccolò could read him as well as he could read Nico, and he wasn’t surprised when Nico rose from the couch and came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his stomach and setting his chin on Martino’s shoulder.

“You didn’t say anything all the way home,” he said, brushing aside Martino’s curls. “Do you not like the guys?”

“No,” Martino said, turning in Nico’s arms. He barely knew the people Nico had somehow become friends with in the few days they’d been in Milan, at a university in a new city. He knew he should have been excited, and he was, but he was also worried. It was a worry he hadn’t shared with Nico, or with anyone before he’d left. “They seem nice.”

“But you’re upset,” Nico pointed out, and it wasn’t even a question.

“I just…” Martino sighed. It was going to sound stupid if he said it out loud.

“What?” Nico asked, hands tightening over his back, eyes darting to Martino’s, holding his gaze.

“I feel like I’m not going to make friends,” Martino admitted at length, looking away from Nico. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. “And it’s so easy for you. Everyone likes you.”

“Why wouldn’t you make friends?” 

Martino paused, frowning. “It took years to find the friends I have, and now I have to start over. I’m not good at talking to strangers. I’m just going to become your third-wheel.”

Nico shook his head, reaching for Martino’s neck. “That’s not going to happen,” he assured him. “And people like you too. You’re just quieter. It just takes longer.”

Martino knew Niccolò was just saying it. He’d lived his whole life this way, trying to find the right friends. He’d gotten lucky with Gio, a proximity thing maybe at first, and Gio was the one who had brought Elia and Luca into the group. Another bit of luck. The truth was Martino just wasn’t as charming or outgoing as Gio or Elia or Niccolò. And having to start over at University made him feel anxious.

Seeing Nico with his new group of friends already had only made his chest seize up, worried they would only like Nico, who was friendly and easy to get along with. He always felt on the outside somehow, and now Gio was far away in Rome, a comfort he’d always had gone.

“Hey,” Nico said softly when Martino didn’t respond. He pulled Martino in closer, foreheads resting together, and Martino closed his eyes. “You’re always going to have me, and you’ll find new friends too. I promise.”

Nico pressed a kiss to Martino’s lips, tender, and Martino’s heart ached, but he nodded. He had to believe that, believe Nico.

“Can we just hang out here for a while?” Martino asked when Nico pulled back, and Nico nodded.

Wrapping his arms around Nico, Martino sighed into his neck. Maybe it would happen eventually, new friends, and Martino hoped it would, but for now, at least he had Niccolò, and that was all he wanted.


	58. Marti Tells his Mom about Nico

“His name is Niccolò,” Martino says to his pasta, not chancing a glance up, across the table where his mom sits, pushing her own pasta around the plate. He knows she stills, glancing up at him.

“Niccolò,” she repeats softly. “That’s a nice name.”

They haven’t talked, not really, even though Martino feels like he can finally breathe around her, as if he doesn’t have to keep everything inside like he has the past few months.

She doesn’t ask any questions, waiting for him. She’s always waited for him, he realizes as he sits there, looking up finally.

“We met at school,” he says, volunteering the information, and she nods, a smile at the edge of her lips.

“Is he nice?”

Martino isn’t sure what to say. He and Nico aren’t together, but for some reason, he _wants_ to tell her about him, about the first boy who’s ever liked him back, even if he might have ruined it all.

“He plays the piano,” he offers instead. “And he draws.”

“He sounds nice,” she says, watching him, and Martino sighs, poking at his pasta.

“We kind of… we’re not really… We’re not really together anymore.”

“Oh,” she says, and she doesn’t ask why. She’s letting him come to her. Martino knows it.

It’s been years since they’ve really talked, like they did when he was a kid, when he could still tell her secrets, secrets that didn’t matter.

Setting down his fork, Martino sits back. “I screwed it up,” he says, lifting his gaze to hers. “I did the wrong thing and now it’s over.”

Nico hadn’t picked up when he’d tried to call the other day. He hasn’t texted back. Martino is pretty sure Nico doesn’t want anything to do with him, and he deserves it for taking Maddalena at her word, for not bothering to even ask Niccolò how he was feeling.

She sets down her fork as well, and he’s surprised to see her smiling.

“Part of growing up is making mistakes,” she says gently. “Do you like him?”

Martino nods after a second, jerking his shoulders.

“Then you’ll figure it out.”

She sounds so confident, more confident in anything than she has in the past few months, but Martino doesn’t allow himself to hope, not yet. So far, he hasn’t managed to do much right when it comes to Nico.

Reaching for her wine glass, she smiles at Martino. “Is he cute?”

Martino laughs before he can stop himself, feeling a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m not answering that.”

She shakes her head, taking a sip. “I’ll just take that as a yes.”

Martino rolls his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to be annoyed, not with her finally smiling, his heart feeling lighter than it has in a long while. He may not know where he stands with Niccolò, but at least, he knows where he stands with her and maybe, he thinks, he needed that most.


	59. The Contrabbandieri Returns to Bracciano

“It’s weird, huh?”

Martino pulled his head from the fridge to find Gio behind him, gazing out the window to the back porch. The lake sparkled in the distance, the afternoon sun gleaming off the surface.

“What is?” Martino grabbed the last couple beers from the bottom shelf and cracked one open on the countertop. He handed the other to Gio.

“Last Easter, it was me and Eva, and this year, it’s you and Nico.”

Martino couldn’t help smiling as he took a swig. “Now we just need to get you two back together.”

Gio laughed, but he didn’t argue, cuffing Martino on the arm. “So we can go on double dates? Dream on, Marti.”

Rolling his eyes, Martino ignored that, heading for the back porch. “Like I’d ever go on a double date with you. I’ve seen you eat.”

Gio shoved Martino through the door instead of replying, and Martino laughed. He probably wouldn’t say no to a double date if Gio and Eva every got back together.

“There you are,” Luca said as Gio and Martino stepped onto the porch. He, Elia, and Nico were sitting on a thin blanket, passing a joint between them, although Martino snagged it before it could get to Nico and passing it on to Gio. Nico merely shot him a reproachful look, but he didn’t seem too upset when Martino handed him a beer instead and settled in beside him.

Martino couldn’t help smiling as Nico slid an arm over his shoulder, so easily. He loved that they could do this, in front of the boys, that the guys barely even noticed anymore, no longer constantly teasing Martino.

Elia’s eyes were on them, though, as Martino settled in against Nico.

“I get the bed this time,” he announced as Gio handed back the joint and blew the smoke into the circle as he laughed.

“It’s my aunt’s cabin,” Gio reminded him, and Elia shot him a look.

“Yeah, but last time I was promised the bed, and we all ended up on the floor if I remember.”

“Not Marti,” Gio said, tossing Martino a grin. “Or Nico.”

“I thought we made up for that,” Martino said, feeling Niccolò’s fingers brushing through his hair, tickling the back of his neck. “We took you out to breakfast.”

“Nico took us out to breakfast,” Elia corrected him, “and if it wasn’t for us, he wouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

“You mean me,” Gio interrupted.

“The Love Wizard,” Luca said with a grin, wiggling his fingers at Gio, who dusted off his shoulder, preening.

“What?” Nico asked from behind Martino. “What are you talking about? Love Wizard?”

“Oh shit, he didn’t tell you?” Elia asked, sitting up eagerly, and Martino groaned.

“It’s nothing,” he said firmly, glaring at Elia, but Elia never took a hint. It hadn’t been Martino’s proudest moment in his courtship with Nico.

“You should have seen him,” Elia said, completely ignoring Martino’s death glare. “He was a total mess.”

“Completely,” Gio agreed around the joint.

“He didn’t even know what to text you, like a lovesick puppy. We had to talk him through the whole thing.”

“That’s not true,” Martino argued, casting a glance at Nico, who just seemed confused. “I just wasn’t sure what was going on.”

Niccolò nodded slowly, leaning into his cheek and pressing a kiss to it. “That was my fault.”

“It was both our faults,” Martino corrected him. “But it didn’t matter because you came anyway.”

“Yeah,” Nico agreed. “Because I was afraid I was going to lose you forever.”

“See? Love Wizard,” Gio said, ignoring Martino’s scoff.

“That’s not exactly romantic,” Martino pointed out, but he supposed, in a way, he had to thank Gio and Elia for everything they’d done to help. Even Luca, who had made Martino see what a dumbass he was being.

“Well, this time, we’re not giving you two hours to commandeer the bed,” Elia went on, stealing the joint from Luca despite his protest.

Nico smiled, snaking an arm around Martino’s waist. “What would you do if we were already using it?”

A flush crept over Martino’s cheeks, and he determinedly did not meet anyone around the circle’s eyes.

Elia paused for a second, thinking. “Throw water on you. That’s what you do to cats in heat.”

Gio laughed and Martino couldn’t help smiling, rolling his eyes and beating down his blush.

“If you ever get a girlfriend, I’ll remember that,” Martino replied, not stopping Nico from pressing light kisses to his neck. “But that’ll never happen.”

“Fuck you, Marti,” Elia said without any heat. “I’ve got so much game.”

Martino just laughed, leaning back against Nico. “Maybe someday you’ll prove it and get the bedroom.”

“You guys are both wrong,” Gio said, snuffing out the joint on the deck. “I have the most game, and I get the bed.”

No one could argue with that, and Martino didn’t try, drinking his beer and sighing, content, as he relaxed against Nico and watched the sun sink over the lake.


	60. Nico Tells Maddie about Martino

Nico watched Maddalena across the table, hands pressed together on top as he waited, waited for her inevitable questions. He could see the wheels turning as she took in what he’d just said, that he liked Martino, that he wanted to break up. He saw the slow dawn of realization as she glanced around at the people in the cafe, at why they were there instead of alone in Nico’s apartment.

“Colino,” she said finally, voice low, leaning over the table towards him. “What are you doing?”

Nico frowned, shaking his head. “I just said—”

“No,” she interrupted, raising a hand to stop him. “I heard what you said. You think you’re in love with this boy, but the truth is you don’t even know him.”

Nico knew Marti. He knew Martino was sweet and funny and cute when he was scared, willing to follow Nico into an abandoned pool in the middle of the night and be brave enough to tease back. Martino listened when Nico talked about being alone, like maybe he understood.

“I do,” Niccolò insisted, and Maddalena sat back, crossing her arms.

He’d known it wouldn’t be easy, had gathered all his courage to even ask Maddalena to meet him here so he could finally tell her, finally end it the way they should have done months ago, the first time he’d seen Martino at school and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t been brave enough then.

“He doesn’t know you,” she replied, sharp. “Have you told him about everything?”

Nico hesitated, not quite meeting her stare. He hadn’t told Martino yet, about his diagnosis, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t work out. Didn’t he deserve to be happy?

“Niccolò,” she said after a second, reaching out for his hand, but he pulled it back. “This is just a phase. It’s not real. Remember last year? Imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t had me.”

Nico would never forget last year. He would never forget it for the rest of his life, and he didn’t need Maddalena to remind him of it either.

Annoyed, he sat back. Of course she would try to convince him it wasn’t real, but he knew what he felt, and he knew Martino felt the same.

“I can function without you,” he said. “I know everyone thinks I can’t, but I can.”

“Is that what this is?” she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder, forehead creased with concern. “You’re just trying to prove something? Colino, Martino will never understand what you have to deal with. I’ve been with you every step of the way. You can count on me.”

He could count on her, it was true, he thought as he gazed across the table. He could count on her to dismiss his feelings, to tell him what to do, to monitor his every move, to report to his parents whenever he didn’t text her back. He’d spent half the weekend assuring his parents that everything was fine, that they didn’t have to freak out every time he went off without Maddalena. He was perfectly capable of making decisions and keeping himself safe. Most of the time anyway. He didn’t need a chaperon, and that was what Maddie felt like most of the time these days.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Nico replied finally. “Marti and I want to be together.”

She didn’t look convinced, mouth twisting. “I’ll be here when this passes. Martino can never be what you want.”

Niccolò wasn’t listening to her, and he grabbed his jacket off the chair as he stood up. He didn’t feel bad as he glanced down at her frown. He just felt happy and he smiled.

“I’ll see you around, Maddie,” was all he said as he left the cafe. He wasn’t going to let her words drag him down, not when he had Marti to look forward to, Marti’s smile, the way he laughed at Nico and curled into him. He had all that, and he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.


	61. Nico Gets Pierced

“Nervous?”

Nico glanced over his shoulder at Martino, who tore his gaze from the photos of tattoos on the wall to grin at Nico.

“Of course not,” he said, though it might have been a tiny bit of a lie when the shop girl reappeared and nodded him to the back.

The shop was nestled in a narrow alley, hidden away from the bustle of the main streets, away from the tourists looking to get a souvenir of their trip. The red-painted walls were covered in photos of tattoos, a book of piercing pictures sat on the counter, above the cases of jewelry, gleaming in the tiny lights.

Martino only laughed as they entered a back room, much brighter lit than the rest of the shop, a mirror on the wall, a storage case by the door.

“He’ll be back in a minute,” the girl said as she left and Nico glanced at the chair, just like the kind doctors had in their offices.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Martino said after a second, doubt in his voice, as though he was worried Nico was doing this for the wrong reasons.

“I do want to,” he assured Marti, pulling him in by his face and laughing at Martino’s doubtful look. “I just, how much is it going to hurt?”

“Not that bad,” Martino said after a second, expression softening. “Though I’m pretty sure I saw a tear in Elia’s eyes when we went.”

“I always knew he wasn’t as tough as he pretends to be,” he said, ruffling Martino’s hair. He was nervous, excited. It seemed like such an insignificant thing to be nervous about, getting his ear pierced.

He’d had the thought a few weeks ago, one morning, lying in bed next to Marti. Martino hadn’t been awake yet but the sun had woken Nico up, falling into his eyes in an unpleasant wake-up call. He’d let Martino sleep, though, brushing his fingers along Martino’s curls, ghosting over the shell of his ear and Martino’s little ring there.

Martino had shifted away from the touch, making a noise of protest, and Nico couldn’t help smiling. After everything they’d gone through, sometimes he still couldn’t believe they’d made it this far. In the moment, he’d wanted to do something, to show the world how happy he was, show Martino. His first thought had been a tattoo, but when he’d mentioned it to Marti later, Marti rightfully talked him out of getting his name anywhere on his body.

“Let’s give that idea a few years.”

A few years. Even that made Nico smile and plant a kiss on Martino’s lips. Just the fact that Martino was thinking that far ahead, was considering that future made him happy. He’d thought of the piercing next, one to match Martino’s, something not quite as permanent.

He felt a rush of excitement as they stood in the room, waiting for the piercer, unable to stop grinning at Martino, who held onto his hand tightly, as if keeping him grounded.

Martino dropped his hand as the door opened, though, and a tall guy came in, nodding at them both.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked, and Nico moved over to the chair.

“That would be him,” Martino said fondly as Nico settled in. He could feel his heart thrumming in his throat, nervous again. “I told him it won’t bleed much.”

“He’s joking,” Nico said, smacking Martino in the stomach, but he hesitated. “I think.”

“It usually doesn’t bleed too much,” the guy said simply, pulling on a pair of gloves and taking out a brand new needle, laying everything out on a tray.

Nico looked away. He’d been trying not to think of the needle part. Instead, he met Martino’s gaze, the way Martino smiled down at him, calming, and he took a breath.

The piercer uncapped a pen and turned to Nico. “I’m going to mark the spot and you tell me if you like it. Which side?”

“Right,” Nico said, swallowing carefully as the guy nodded and he felt the tiny press of the pen tip against his ear.

The guy handed him a mirror. “That look good?”

“Looks fine,” he said, examining the spot. “Marti?”

Marti smiled, shaking his head. “It’s good.”

Nico took another breath as the piercer picked up the needle. He wanted to reach for Martino’s hand, but he wasn’t sure if he should with a stranger in the room. Martino took the seat next to him, reaching for his shoulder instead, squeezing gently. “I promise it’s not going to hurt too much.”

“It’ll be quick,” the piercer agreed. “I just need you to take a deep breath.”

Nico inhale deeply, meeting Martino’s gaze, a swell of warmth in his chest as Martino’s lips curled into a smile.

“And exhale for three seconds—one, two, three,” the guy said and Nico felt the sharp punch into his ear, a sudden pressure as the needle pierced the cartilage, but even though Nico grimaced, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected, and he relaxed for a second until the piercer pushed the ring through the hole.

He was glad for Martino’s hand on his shoulder, a comforting weight.

“That wasn’t too bad, right?” Martino asked as the guy handed over the mirror again.

“Take a look.”

Nico smiled as he stared in the mirror at the shiny new ring in his ear. His skin was red around it, but there it was, an exact mirror of Martino’s. “It’s perfect,” he said, handing back the mirror, grinning up at Martino.

The guy pulled a paper out of a file and handed it over as Nico stood up. It had been a lot faster than he’d expected, and despite the dull throb in his ear, he couldn’t stop grinning.

“Care instruction,” the guy said. “Use a saline wash a couple times a day and try not to touch it except when cleaning or in the shower.”

Nico nodded along, taking everything he gave him, the nerves gone, replaced by excitement. He just wanted to stare at it, but he couldn’t as Martino led the way out of the shop. In the alley, Nico grabbed Martino’s arm, pulling him back. There was no one in either direction.

“So what do you think?” he asked, voice quiet, stepping into Martino’s space, and Martino took the opportunity to brush his hair back.

“I think it looks good,” he replied, admiring the piercing, eyes sliding to Nico’s. “I think you look good.”

“Yeah?” Nico asked, hand sliding to Martino’s back. “We match now.”

“Mhm,” Martino hummed, smiling when Nico let his free hand finger his piercing, leaning into Nico’s forehead. “I love you, Ni.”

“I love you too,” Nico replied, closing the distance for a kiss, laughing when Martino pressed in closer. “My parents won’t be home for a few hours. How about we go to my place instead of making out in an alley?”

“You got a piercing,” Martino reminded him, taking his hand as he stepped back. “You’re already a rebel. When’s the tattoo coming?”

Nico smiled at him as they headed for the street. “Let’s give that a few years.”

After all, they had plenty more years ahead of them.


	62. Marti has a Nightmare

It’s been years since this has happened, since Martino has woken up in a cold sweat, heart racing, panting for breath, fingers clenched around what covers he hasn’t kicked off to his ankles.

He’d used to get them a lot, right after his dad left, the stress and anxiety of everything soaking into his brain in a way he couldn’t stop, manifesting in dreams that crept up on him, left him shaking afterward. He’d chalked it up to stress, having to deal with his mom, with the overwhelming weight of keeping his secrets.

Since last year, though, Martino hasn’t had a dream like that. Since everything came out in the open, he’s slept better than he can remember.

Until tonight.

His eyes fly open as he gasps, jolted out of the dream, back into reality, to Nico’s hand on his shoulder, as if he’d been trying to wake him.

“Marti?” Nico says, concern in his voice, and Martino takes a breath, letting it out slowly. He feels sweat on his forehead, fingers shaking as he forces them to unclench from the sheets.

“I’m fine,” he says, though he doesn’t feel fine, swallowing and blinking at the dark ceiling of Nico’s room.

“You were jerking around,” Nico says quietly, brushing Martino’s curls back. “Was it a bad dream?”

Martino has never told Nico about the dreams. He hasn’t had any since they got together. And they’re never the same. Sometimes they make no sense, just an overall sense of impending doom that leaves him shaking. Other times, it’s Martino running from someone, tripping over his own feet and spiralling down into a canyon where he wakes just before he hits the ground.

Tonight, all Martino remembers is fear, a black hole moving towards him and he was rooted to the ground, unable to turn or run. The details are already slipping away as he lies there, tugging the sheets back up, closing his eyes as Nico’s fingers slide down his cheek.

“Yeah,” he says finally, unsurprised when Nico shifts closer, arms around his shoulders, and he relaxes against him. Usually it’s the other way around, him pulling Niccolò close and whispering comforting words in his ear.

He lets Nico do it this time, his chest warm and firm as Martino cuddles in closer. He doesn’t want to think about the dream, about what it might mean.

“Does it happen often?” Nico murmurs against Martino’s temple, lips soft against his skin, and Martino closes his eyes, sighing softly. It feels like he can’t breathe properly still, even wrapped up in Nico. He knows he’s safe there.

“Not anymore.”

“But it used to?”

Martino pauses, opening his eyes, though he can’t see much in the dark. He feels Nico’s thumb brushing over his shoulder blade, comforting.

“After my dad left,” he says, setting his chin on Nico’s shoulder, against the soft fabric of his tee shirt. It smells like Nico.

Nico doesn’t reply for a minute and Martino listens to his breathing instead. He has exams tomorrow, the last exams he’ll have to take in high school. Then it will be university and the rest of his future. He’s been trying not to think about it, especially when everyone else seems so excited, but the truth is he’s nervous.

He’s nervous about leaving his mom alone, about what it means for him and Nico, starting over at university, moving to Milan. It’s been hard enough to sleep lately, and the dreams aren’t helping. At least he has Nico.

“It’s probably just stress,” he mutters finally into Nico’s chest, huffing out a breath. He feels better now, the shakiness receding, his heart rate returning to normal.

Nico presses a kiss to his temple, hooking his ankle around Martino’s under the covers and letting Martino sink into him. “You’re not doing this alone,” he reminds him, and Martino nods.

“I know.” It’s an easy thing to say but harder to believe. He knows Nico feels the same sometimes, those days he feels like a burden, tries to isolate himself from Marti. But Martino doesn’t let him, and he knows Nico will do the same.

So he lets out a breath and closes his eyes again, hoping when he falls asleep this time, he won’t dream anything at all.


	63. Emma Gets Bit by the Mouse

_Do you believe in karma?_

Glancing at his phone, Martino paused at the message from Eva that popped up. He nudged Nico beside him on the bed where Nico was sprawled on his stomach, working through his math homework.

“Eva wants to know if I believe in karma,” he said, and Nico glanced back at him, curious.

“I do.”

Martino’s eyebrows went up, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Nico believed in all sorts of things he didn’t, but that was part of his charm.

He was more curious why Eva was asking and he opened the message, but before he could ask, a photo popped up in it, a screenshot of Emma’s Instagram, a photo of her with a bandaged finger and ‘Mouse Attack’ written across the top.

Martino knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help it as he stared at the photo.

“What is it?” Nico asked, pushing himself up and cuddling into Martino so he could look over his shoulder at the phone. “Is that…”

Martino laughed. “Emma got bit by a mouse.”

“See?” Nico said as Martino copied the photo. “Karma is real.”

Maybe so, Martino had to agree as he dropped the photo in the group chat with the boys and hit send.

“Do you think she’ll get rabies?”

Martino shot Nico a look, to which Nico merely raised his eyebrows. They’d never really talked about Emma, what had happened with her, those few weeks Martino had pretended to be interested in her, but Martino had always gotten the idea Nico didn’t like her all that much.

“I don’t think you can get rabies from a mouse,” he replied, and Nico nuzzled into his neck as his phone pinged with responses from the boys.

“After she outed both of us, I think she deserves all the karma she gets, mice or otherwise,” Nico said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Martino couldn’t disagree, but he was distracted by the text messages popping up on his phone.

**Elia**  
She found a hairbrush!

**Luca**  
Do you think she’ll get super powers now?

**Gio**  
The power to keep her mouth shut maybe

**Elia**  
I’d fuck her

**Gio**  
She’s dating Fede now

**Luca**  
I thought Eva was dating Fede

**Elia**  
Shut up, Luchi

**Martino**  
But how’s the mouse??

**Gio**  
Probably dead

**Elia**  
Or gay now. She can do that, right, Marti??

**Martino**  
:-/

Martino shook his head as the messages came in, and Nico laughed beside him, arms around his waist, chin set over his shoulder.

“You still don’t believe in karma?” he asked simply, pressing a kiss to Martino’s cheek as he laughed.

“Maybe,” he admitted as Elia filled the screen with emojis. Emma hardly mattered to him anymore, and he turned to face Nico, reaching for his jaw and leaning in for a slow kiss that Nico hummed into, content. “I don’t care about her. I never really did.”

“I know,” Nico said, stealing another kiss. “I just feel bad for the mouse.”

Laughing, Martino tossed his phone aside and drew Nico close to him, kissing him and smiling as Nico’s hands tightened around his waist. The mouse would be fine, he was sure. After all, he’d kissed Emma and gotten exactly what he wanted in the end.


	64. Marti's Mom Catches them Making Out

Nico shut the bedroom door open as he returned from the bathroom, crawling on the bed next to Martino and disrupting the flash cards Martino had just spent the last ten minutes organizing.

“Ni,” he reprimanded him easily, gathering the cards from under Nico’s knees and shuffling them into a pile. He knew studying on the bed was a bad idea, especially where Nico was concerned, but somehow, that knowledge didn’t stop him from doing it, from agreeing to Nico coming over on a school night and setting up his textbooks on the bed.

“Quiz me,” Nico replied to Martino’s frown, smile bright as he leaned into him, nuzzling his nose, stealing a kiss before Martino could pull back.

“Just because my mom’s not home doesn’t mean we aren’t going to study,” he said, trying to be serious, but it was difficult with Nico grinning at him like that, settling cross-legged in front of him. “I have a test in two days.”

“Then let’s study,” Nico replied, taking the cards from Martino’s hands. “Every right answer gets a reward.”

Martino knew better, but he couldn’t stop Nico from shuffling through the cards. He pulled one out.

“Newton’s third law?”

Sighing, Martino tried to sort through the information squished in his brain. “Action and reaction.”

Nico nodded, tossing the card aside and leaning forward, kissing Martino easily.

“What was that?”

“Your reward,” Nico replied, picking out another card as Martino bit back his smile. Not the most efficient way to study, but maybe he’d remember the answers better if they came with a kiss from Nico.

“What’s the equation for finding acceleration?” Nico asked, watching Martino make a face. He was pretty shit at math of all kinds.

“Final velocity minus initial velocity, divided by time.”

“Very good,” Nico said, dropping the cards as he reached for Martino’s neck, kissing him deeper this time, and Martino laughed as he shoved him away.

“Test, remember?” he said, satisfied when Nico grabbed the cards and shot him a knowing look. It wasn’t that Martino didn’t want to waste a whole evening making out with him, but he couldn’t fail this test.

“What is force?”

Martino paused, trying to remember what he’d read in the book, what was on the back of the card Nico held.

“It’s what changes an object’s velocity?” he said, unsure, glancing at Nico for confirmation.

“Are you asking or are you telling?” Nico asked, flicking the corner of the card as Martino’s chin dropped, tilting to the side.

“Just tell me if I got it right,” he said, reaching for the card, but Nico jerked it out of reach, holding it over his head, and Martino rolled his eyes. “Ni.”

Nico’s eyes were shining and Martino knew exactly what he wanted, shifting forward, watching Nico’s eyebrows rise, still holding the card up high. He wanted his reward.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Martino said finally, sliding his hands around the back of Nico’s neck and leaning into his mouth. He intended to snatch the card from Nico’s hand once his defenses dropped, but Nico let it flutter to the bed before he could even try, arms sliding over Martino’s neck, keeping him there, licking into his mouth and laughing when Martino bit down on his lip in retaliation.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, but Martino didn’t stop it, didn’t stop the lazy exchange of kisses. He’d stop it in a second, get back to studying, but for now, they could take a tiny break.

“Is this what ‘studying’ means now?”

Martino jerked back at his mother’s voice, heart jumping into his throat as he caught sight of her at the door.

“Mamma,” he said quickly, wiping at his mouth, and even Nico had the good sense to look away from her knowing gaze.

He hadn’t even heard the door, hadn’t heard her footsteps in the hall, and he’d blame Nico for that later.

“We are studying,” he said, grabbing the notecard from the bed and holding it up as though it was proof.

“This door stays open,” she just said, and he swore he caught a tiny smile at the edge of her lips as she stepped back from the frame. When Martino glanced at Niccolo, he found him barely suppressing his grin, as though this was all highly amusing.

“Shut up,” Martino said, shoving him back. He turned the card over. “I was right.”

“I want you to be confident in your answers,” Nico replied, settling in next to Martino.

Martino paused, arching an eyebrow, leaning in too close, centimeters from Nico’s mouth, and he saw the way his lips parted.

“I’m confident my mom’s never going to trust you alone in my room again.”

He pulled back and Nico followed after for a second, shoulders sinking in disappointment.

“You’re still going to give me a goodnight kiss, right?”

Martino shrugged, catching Nico’s questioning gaze and smirking. “If you’re good.”

“Fine,” Nico agreed, curling up next to him, thigh touching his and Martino smiled. Nico would get his goodnight kiss. Gathering up the cards, Martino pressed them into Nico’s hands. 

“Quiz me?”


	65. Luca Comandeers Nico

“Where’s Nico?” Gio asked as he joined Martino at the edge of the rooftop. Martino wasn’t sure how Fede had convinced her parents to let her have another party there after last year, but at least this year, he was actually enjoying it instead of hiding in the bathroom with the boys.

Glancing around, Martino couldn’t spot Nico in the crowd.

“He went to get a drink a while ago,” he said, frowning slightly. Nico hadn’t seemed upset or tired when he left, but Martino wasn’t always totally in tune to Nico’s moods even now. Maybe he’d missed it.

“Everything okay?” Gio asked as Martino’s frown deepened and he stood up on his toes to try to spot him.

“I think so,” Martino said, pushing off the ledge. “I should probably go find him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Gio said, tipping his beer at Martino. “Probably just enjoying the party.”

“Yeah,” Martino agreed, but he’d rather be sure Nico wasn’t hiding in the bathroom, unwilling to interrupt Martino’s night with his problems.

He didn’t heed Gio’s words as headed into the crowd, weaving past the girls, past Elia chatting up Sofia--or attempting to--in the corner. As far as he could see, Nico wasn’t on the roof, and Martino felt the creep of worry as he left the roof for the kitchen. Most of the time, Nico let him know when he wasn’t feeling well, but sometimes, he still kept it to himself.

The kitchen was empty and Martino sighed, pulling out his phone, but there were no messages from Nico.

_where are you?_ he sent, wandering further into the apartment, down the stairs to the bathroom he barely remembered from last year. Relief washed over him as he stepped into the corridor and caught sight of Nico at the end of it, talking with Luca.

“But what do you mean by romantic gesture?” Luca asked as Martino stepped up behind him, and Nico flashed him a smile. So he was okay. “How’d you get Marti?”

“Dating advice, Luchi?” Martino asked and Luca jumped at his voice, whipping around. “Are you trying to steal my boyfriend?”

“No!” Luca said quickly, and Nico bit back his smile behind him. “Nico was saying I should do something big to get Silvia’s attention.”

“Like taking her to an abandoned pool in the middle of the night?”

Nico grinned, eyes shining in the dim hall lighting. “I’m not sure Silvia would be as into that as you were.”

“It was a little serial killer,” Martino agreed, but Luca didn’t seem to be listening, frowning at Nico.

“I need help. She won’t even look at me.”

“Why haven’t you asked Gio?” Martino asked. “He’s the Love Wizard, isn’t he?”

Luca shrugged. “Nico got you, and you never talk about anybody you like.”

“That’s because I wasn’t out,” Martino pointed out. “Luchino, you have to stop commandeering Nico for help with your love life.”

“I don’t mind,” Nico piped up, smiling at Martino’s fond eye roll. Of course Nico didn’t mind Luca asking for advice. He was probably giving terrible advice that didn’t involve flowers or candy at all.

“Well, I mind him hogging you all night,” Martino replied, tugging Nico over to him, and Nico laughed.

“Sorry, Luchi, time’s up I’m afraid.”

“But I--”

“Just be honest with her,” Nico said, pressing a kiss to Martino’s cheek. “Always works.”

“I thought maybe you’d left,” Martino said as he finally led Nico away from Luca, back up the stairs, and he glanced over his shoulder as Nico wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.

“Sorry. Luca cornered me outside the bathroom. He had a lot of questions.”

“And you’re the foremost expert on dating, are you?” Martino asked as they reached the landing and he turned in Nico’s arms, taking advantage of the emptiness to lean into him as Nico grinned.

“I did get you, didn’t I? According to Luchi, that’s a feat in and of itself.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Martino replied, smiling into the kiss he pressed to Nico’s lips. They didn’t have to go back to the party, he decided as they stood there, wrapped up in each other. It was his turn to get Nico all to himself and he was going to take full advantage.


	66. Nico Gets Hurt in PE

Nico hurt in PE

 

Nico was late to meet him at break, which wasn’t too much of a concern, Martino admitted. Nico was one of those people who took forever to get dressed in the morning, so he couldn’t be much different changing after gym class.

“Marti, you owe me a coffee,” Elia said, and Martino rolled his eyes.

“I don’t owe you anything, Eli,” he said. “If anything, you owe me.”

“Boys, boys,” Gio said from his perch on the desk. “Don’t fight.”

“Yes, mother,” Martino retorted, but he didn’t get the response he expected back from Gio, who was staring out the classroom door at someone approaching. Turning, Martino frowned at Edoardo heading right toward them.

“You’re Martino, right?” Edoardo asked, and Martino exchanged a glance with Gio before answering.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure that Edoardo had ever spoken to him before, had ever even known he’d existed. Not that Martino cared. He had better things to do than think about Edoardo and his idiot friends.

“You’re dating that Nico guy, right?”

Martino felt more than saw Gio slide off the desk behind him, saw Elia’s shoulders square as he straightened up, ready for a fight.

“Yeah?” he said, unsure why Edoardo was asking. Edoardo had never said anything homophobic as far as he could tell, but that was no guarantee he wouldn’t start now.

Edoardo seemed to glance around, at Elia and Gio, before he flashed Martino a smile. “I just wanted to tell you that Nico got hurt in gym class today. It looked pretty bad so they sent him to the nurse.”

“What do you mean _hurt_?” Gio asked suspiciously, but Martino’s mind was already thinking of a thousand ways Nico could be hurt, flashing to Nico lying in a hospital bed, cold and pale.

Edoardo shrugged, and Martino grabbed his jacket off the chair. “We were playing football and he kind of slid under someone, got tangled up, twisted his ankle looked like.”

“Shit,” Martino cursed, stepping around Edoardo without even bothering to thank him.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Marti,” Gio called after him, but Martino was already halfway down the hall, weaving past students lounging around on their break, down the stairs to the nurse’ office where he burst through the door.

Both Nico and the nurse’s heads shot towards him, and Martino took a breath as his eyes landed on Nico sitting in a chair, his ankle propped up as the nurse wrapped it tightly.

“Excuse me,” she said as Martino stepped inside, heart pounding in his chest, catching Nico’s questioning look. “If you need something, I’ll be with you in a moment. Just wait outside.”

“Marti,” Nico said, shaking his head at him. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, you know each other,” she said, yanking the wrapping tight and Nico grimaced. “Well, he can help you home then.”

“Home?” Martino asked, staring at Nico’s ankle, swollen even under the bandage.

The nurse ignored him, patting Nico’s knee instead. “Go easy on it for a few days. I’ll tell Boccia no football for a while.”

Nico nodded, sliding his foot to the floor and pushing himself up carefully, wobbling as he tried to put weight on the ankle. Martino stepped forward swiftly, grabbing his arm, and Nico shot him a smile.

Martino got him out of the office and to the front door, an arm around his waist as Nico limped along.

“You burst in there like Superman,” Nico said as Martino held the front door open and Nico inched past, grimacing whenever he put weight on his right ankle.

“Shut up,” Martino said, his face going red. He may have slightly overreacted to hearing Nico was hurt. Nico’s hand held onto his shoulder as Martino helped him down the stairs, steadying them on the railing.

Nico laughed, seemingly unaffected by his new physical state, stumbling as they reached the ground, and Martino grabbed him.

“Were you worried?” Nico asked, hopping alongside Martino toward the exit.

“Of course,” Martino said, catching the way Nico’s expression melted into something so sappy that Martino’s heart ached.

“How did you know anyway?”

Martino turned the corner, arm falling away from Nico’s waist, taking his upper arm instead. “Edoardo.”

Nico’s eyebrows went up. “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, maybe you could make a new friend,” Martino said, sarcastic, and Nico laughed, pulling on Martino’s arm to get him to stop walking.

“How about instead of going home, we go get gelato?” he said, brushing back Martino’s hair, and Martino shook his head.

“You need to rest.”

“I can rest at a gelato place,” Nico insisted, and it was almost impossible not to give into Nico’s big eyes, his fingers trailing down Martino’s neck as they stood on the deserted street.

“Okay,” Martino gave in after a minute of fighting it, knowing he should take Nico home and set him up on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. Gelato first, then the couch. “Fine. One gelato, then I’m taking you home and you’re gonna stay off your foot for the rest of the day.”

“My hero,” Nico said, leaning in for a quick peck against Martino’s cheek. “There’s a great place over by Piazza Navona.”

“Way too far,” Martino argued as Nico limped along beside him.

“Come on, Marti!”

Martino just laughed and kept going. Someone had to keep Nico out of trouble and he didn’t mind doing the job one bit.


	67. Nico's Whispers at Edo's Party

“Marti,” Nico said, but Martino didn’t hear him over the music throbbing through Edoardo’s living room, too busy trying to keep Eva from ruining Gio’s night and starting something she couldn’t finish. He wasn’t sure how he’d become her babysitter tonight, but she was pretty drunk.

He looked over as he felt Nico’s hand brush his arm, trying to get his attention, and leaning in when Nico brought a hand to his ear.

“How about we leave Eva with Eleonora and take advantage of this gigantic villa. I’m sure there are lots of great places to hide.”

Martino smiled, lowering his drink and tilting his chin towards Nico, but Nico hadn’t finished, pulling his ear back.

“I want to get my hands on you,” he said, lips brushing against Martino’s ear.

Martino wasn’t going to argue with that, catching Nico’s eye and grinning as he turned without saying goodbye to Eva, who was distracted by Eleonora anyway, feeling Nico’s hand wrapping around his arm as he weaved past the drunk party goers, leading the way out the front door.

“Where are we going?” Nico asked, sounding amused, trailing behind him, hand sliding to Martino’s now that they were out of the thick of it.

“Somewhere we can be alone,” he said, glancing back at Nico, who grinned.

“I like that,” Nico murmured, and Martino laughed.

Edoardo’s house sprawled on vast grounds, somehow in town and out of town at the same time. In the dark, the foliage all blurred together, carefully tended and pruned, and Martino led Nico away from the house, not towards the street, past the driveway and around the side where the only light came from the house, flooding the lawn but the trees stopping it going any further.

Martino didn’t know where he was going, tugging Nico along with him, eager to get him all to himself. The whole night had been trying to keep Eva from Gio, no time to really stop, to appreciate Nico’s good mood. 

The air filled with the scent of orange blossoms as Martino stopped in a grove of trees, their branches heavy with small, round fruits, dull in the darkness.

“An orange grove,” Nico said as Martino stopped, glancing around. Here, they were blocked from the rest of the house. “How romantic.” 

“It was either that or a bathroom,” Martino replied, reaching for Nico’s shirt and tugging him forward until they bumped into each other. “I’m sure there are plenty in that house.”

“This is better,” Nico agreed, kissing Martino softly, arms sliding over his shoulders, and Martino felt his sigh, content.

The air was still a bit chilly, winter lingering in the air, but Martino didn’t care as he pulled Niccolò closer, hands slipping under his hoodie.

Nico let out a breath against Martino’s lips, breaking the kiss to lift his gaze to Martino’s. 

“You remember when I took you to that pool?” he asked, and Martino nodded, following Nico’s lips.

“How could I forget?”

Nico tilted his head to Martino’s mouth, licking inside as Martino felt heat in his cheeks, a giddy sense that they could be caught at any moment, hiding in a grove just beyond the lights of the house, the music dulled out here, a muffle in his ears.

“What would have happened if Renato hadn’t come in?” Niccolò asked, teeth pulling on Martino’s lower lip, and Martino let out a shaky breath.

“I probably would have come right there,” Martino admitted, fingers tightening over Nico’s back, digging into the smooth skin. He just wanted Nico’s tongue back in his mouth, Nico’s hands on the back of his neck, the reckless heat traveling through his body as they stumbled back into a tree, leaves and oranges enveloping them, hitting his face, and Niccolò laughed.

“You were that desperate?”

Martino kissed Nico instead of answering, pulling on Nico’s lower lip, tongues sliding together, a thrum in his chest as he tugged Niccolò closer, their chests aligning, skin hot in the chill night air, breath short when Martino moved back, nuzzling into Nico, pressing kisses all down his jaw, sucking a mark into the skin just below his ear.

“I liked you that much,” he said finally, smiling when Nico’s hand moved to his ass, not subtle at all. It was rare that they got to be alone like this, between both their parents always around at home and they couldn’t exactly sneak off at school.

Nico nudged Martino away from his neck, back to his mouth, kisses lazy for a minute, warm and gentle, lips and tongues sliding together, and the noises of the party seemed to fall away as he got Nico all to himself, Nico’s hand on his ass in a way he would never dare in public, not even at a party with all their friends. He could feel himself getting hard even with the slowness of Nico’s kisses, lips lingering together as Nico paused.

“Marti,” he said, and Martino shook his head, pulling Nico back in, sucking on his lower lip. Whatever Nico had to say, it could wait. Except it couldn’t as Nico’s hands moved to his chest, breaking the kiss. “Marti, the music stopped.”

“Huh?” Martino blinked, shaking away the blood rushing through his ears and trying to pay attention to something other than Nico in front of him.

He was right. The music from the house had stopped.

“People are leaving,” Nico said, peering through the tree branches.

“Fuck,” Martino cursed, grip tightening on Nico’s back. They got to do this so rarely. Of course it would be interrupted by a mass exodus.

“I wonder if the police are here,” Nico said, still staring through the leaves.

Reluctant, Martino stepped back, smoothing Nico’s shirt back down. 

Nico glanced back at him, expression hard to read in the dark, but he took Martino’s hand a second later.

“Come on,” he said, tugging Martino towards the rest of the crowd, leaving the grove behind, much to Martino’s disappointment. “I know a place we won’t be interrupted.”

“You promise?” Martino asked, skeptical.

Nico grinned, drawing him in for a kiss Martino felt down to his toes, unwilling to let Nico go as he pulled back. “Promise.”

Martino had no idea where they were going, but he didn’t care as long as Nico was there.


	68. Nico & Marti Run into Maddie

“We need beer!” Elia said, hands on his hips as he stood in the doorway. Martino shoved past him, his hands full with a heavy box that he let fall on the living room floor.

“We need furniture,” he said, gesturing at the empty apartment.

Nico’s grandmother’s house still smelled a little like mothballs and old lady, but it was cozy and it was theirs, and that was what mattered. 

Nico emerged from the bedroom, grinning at Martino. He’d been vibrating on a high all week, and though Martino worried about it ending, he couldn’t help but feel the same. They were moving in, together. He would get Nico all to himself all the time.

“Did somebody say beer?” Luca came from behind Nico, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead. He and Nico and Gio had lugged the mattress up two flights of stairs, so maybe, Martino admitted, a beer wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Okay, well, we don’t have any,” Martino pointed out. They barely had a fridge.

“There’s a store around the corner,” Nico said easily, slinging an arm over Martino’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek. This was really happening, Martino couldn’t help thinking.

“Let’s go!” Elia said eagerly, and a chorus of agreement rose from both Luca and Gio.

Martino supposed he did owe them for all the help, so he grabbed his wallet off one of the boxes and joined Nico at the door.

“Can you believe it?” Nico asked as they followed the boys down the street to the little bodega on the corner. “We did it.”

“You did it,” Martino pointed out. Nico was the one who’d convinced his parents to let him have the apartment, helped convince Martino’s mom that he would still be around all the time, that it wouldn’t affect his grades if he stayed over at Nico’s place a few nights a week (hopefully every night if things went well).

“I hope you brought over your blue button down,” Nico said cheekily. “It belongs in the closet.”

“That’s where it’s gonna go,” Martino replied, grinning at Nico and pulling open the door to the shop. Elia, Luca, and Gio were already in the alcohol section, debating over brands. “Maybe we should get actual food too?”

Nico nodded in agreement, and they left the boys to pick out the alcohol, wandering down the narrow aisles instead and pulling things into the basket.

“Tabasco?” Nico asked, shaking a bottle at Martino, who couldn’t help laughing.

“We should always have some on-hand,” he agreed, dropping it in the basket and glancing around before leaning into Nico for a quick kiss.

“Niccolò?”

A voice behind Martino made him turn, eyes falling on Maddalena stepping into the aisle.

“Maddie,” Nico said, sounding surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said quietly, glancing at Martino, and he was surprised to see a hint of a smile as she did. 

He hadn’t talked to her since that morning, all those months ago. Nico rarely mentioned her.

“It’s been a while,” she said, eyes darting to the basket in Nico’s hands. “How’ve you been?”

She said it gently, not too probing, and Nico took a breath. Martino heard it, felt his nerves next to him.

“Good,” he said finally, glancing at Martino beside him. “Really good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said easily, and for a second, the silence was awkward between them. Martino wasn’t sure how this was supposed to feel. The only ex he had was Emma, and he preferred not to talk to her at all if he could get away with it. They didn’t have the history Nico and Maddalena did.

“I’m moving into my grandmother’s house,” Nico said finally, just as Martino wondered if there was a way to awkwardly end the conversation. “Well, Marti and me are.”

Her eyebrows went up, surprised, but she nodded. “Oh. Wow. That’s a big step. I mean, not big but, you know. It’s good.”

“Yeah,” Nico agreed, and he smiled for the first time since she’d arrived.

“Okay, Gio insisted on wine,” Elia said, appearing behind Maddalena, rolling his eyes. “Because apparently you can’t toast a new apartment with beer. We’re ‘savages’ or something.”

Maddalena seemed to bite back whatever she was thinking, clearing her throat and forcing a smile at both of them.

“It was good to see you,” she said instead, glancing at Martino. “Both of you. Good luck with the new place.”

Martino stepped aside as she left down the aisle, and Nico watched her go.

“Who was that?” Elia asked as Luca and Gio joined him, lugging a bottle of wine and what looked like a case of beer as well.

Nico turned back as she disappeared around the corner, meeting Martino’s eyes. “Just a friend,” he said at length, sliding a hand to Martino’s shoulder, and Martino smiled in return. He’d worried if they’d ever ran into Maddalena again, it would have been much worse, but it actually felt good to see her, to know things were okay.

“Come on,” Gio said, nodding them to the counter. “We have an apartment to celebrate.”

Following Nico to the register, Martino merely smiled as Luca complained about carrying the beer and Nico paid for the groceries, catching his eye as they left the store and grinning as they headed home, their home.


	69. If Marti had talked to Nico at Covitti's Party

Martino left his phone with the bouncer, threading his way through the crowd, after Niccolò. He’d seen him, clear as day. He didn’t care about his friends waiting for him, about whatever bullshit he’d spouted to get in here. He only cared about finding Nico and demanding an explanation.

For days, he’d felt nothing, nothing but disappointment, confusion, anger. He didn’t understand what could have changed in a day, how Nico had gone from wanting to spend a whole weekend together to saying it was too fast.

Bass thudded in Martino’s chest as he weaved through the crowd, searching for Nico, ignoring Eva making out with Fede on the dance floor, only waving vaguely to Silvia as he passed her. He wasn’t here to have fun, to drink to go anywhere near Emma, no matter what he told the bouncer.

His heart jumped as he caught sight of Nico a few feet away, inching through the crowd. For a second, his heart beat matched the volume of the music, rushing in his ears, and he swallowed down any nerves that surfaced, pushing his way past people to Nico.

“Hey,” he said, loud enough that Nico stopped and turned, hesitating as his eyes fell on Martino.

“Marti,” Nico said after a second, shaking his head. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you,” Martino said, had to almost shout over the music, and he hated this. He hated doing this right here, surrounded by people he didn’t know or care about. “About what… what happened.” He hesitated, moving in closer so he could lower his voice. He saw Nico’s shoulder tense, and his heart sunk. “What did I do wrong?”

He hadn’t meant to ask. He’d meant to tell Nico what an asshole he was, getting his hopes up and then breaking his heart all in the same week. He’d meant to demand an explanation for Nico’s actions, but instead, he just felt like it had to be his fault. He had to have done something to make Nico pull away.

“Nothing,” Nico said finally, staring at Martino, eyebrows furrowed, but that couldn’t be it.

“Nothing?” he repeated, and he could feel the throb of his pulse in his throat.

Nico didn’t quite meet his eyes, glancing around the party, at the people bouncing to the music, the blue lights flashing over everyone.

“It’s not you—”

“It’s not you, it’s me?” Martino finished for him, scoffing despite the fact that all he felt like doing was crying or hitting something. “That’s what you have to say?” He wanted more than that. He wanted to know why Nico didn’t want to be with him, after everything he was sacrificing, after everything he’d done in the past few weeks, it had all been for nothing.

A lump welled up in his throat as Martino stared at Nico, waiting for something, anything to tell him he hadn’t been wrong to believe Nico actually cared about him.

There was a sadness in Nico’s eyes when he looked at Martino next, chewing on his bottom lip before speaking. “You’re not ready,” he said finally, dropping his gaze to Martino’s hands, balled into fists at his side. “I’m not… ready.”

“Ready for what?” Martino didn’t understand. They didn’t have to announce it to the world or even to their friends. The only thing he knew was that with Niccolò, he finally felt like himself. And he hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.

Nico shook his head instead of answering him, and Martino saw him swallow. His heart sunk as he stood there, breath coming shorter.

“We can still be friends,” Nico said, but Martino shook his head this time.

“No, no,” he said sharply, taking a step back. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to be the secret, the one-time thing. He didn’t want to have to see Nico at the radio and pretend everything was okay. He couldn’t do it. “Why don’t you just go back to Maddalena and your perfect relationship.”

“Marti,” Nico said as Martino turned before the tears could spill, gasping for air around the lump in his throat.

He passed Silvia and Eva on his way out, passed Emma’s glare as she caught sight of him, bursting out the front door into the clear air, but it did nothing for the stitch in his chest, the suffocating feeling taking over everything as he retrieved his phone and passed the guys.

“We’re not getting in. Let’s go,” he said shortly. He didn’t care about their excuses, the girls they were talking to who could get them in. He just wanted to get out of there, and when he shoved Elia out of his face a minute later, he didn’t care about anything that came after.


	70. After the Fight at Edo's First Party

“You okay?” Elia asked, patting Martino’s face, as though checking to make sure he was actually there, and Martino shrugged him off. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Elia’s concern, and he certainly appreciated him and Gio jumping in, though he would have preferred if they hadn’t had to, he was just more concerned with Nico at the moment.

Searching the faces of the party instead, he let out a breath as he found Nico standing with Sofia.

“I’m fine,” he muttered to Elia, catching Nico’s worried gaze and meeting him in the middle, very aware of the people around him as Nico reached for his arm.

“Marti,” Nico said, voice quiet, and Martino’s stomach clenched, coiled up tight, every eye on them making him nervous. Like it could happen again.

It could happen again, that was the thing. It could happen at any time, and maybe next time Gio wouldn’t be there, maybe they wouldn’t get lucky that it was Edoardo’s party and he could kick the homophobes out.

As he stood there, he found he couldn’t speak, a lump welling up in his throat, and he met Nico’s eyes, scared.

“Come on,” Nico said gently, tugging Martino away from the crowd, out a door and down a relatively quiet hallway. Martino’s hands shook as he reached for Nico, twining their fingers together, and he heard the breath Nico let out, leaning into his forehead. “Are you okay?”

This time, Martino didn’t lie, didn’t shrug him off like he had Elia. “No,” he said, shaking his head, pulling Nico closer, palms pressed together, so he could feel Niccolò’s heartbeat against his. It wasn’t nearly as erratic.

He couldn’t shake the guy’s voice from his head, the way his friend had immediately joined in, unwilling to just let it go, let him escape. That was what happened. It wasn’t anything they could control, and he and Nico were usually so careful in public, to not give anyone an excuse to hate them.

“I was scared,” he admitted, sighing into Nico’s shoulder. “What if Gio hadn’t been there?”

He felt Nico nod, his huff of breath against his neck, releasing his hands to twine around Martino’s back. Martino couldn’t help checking the hall, making sure they really were alone, a prickle of fear at the back of his neck again. He hated that it had to be like this, that he’d forgotten for a minute what the world was like.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Nico said after a minute, smoothing back Martino’s hair. “I should have—”

“You shouldn’t have done anything,” Martino finished for him. He had been too stunned, too worried about what might happen to think about doing anything but getting out of there. He didn’t want Nico to get hurt either.

Nico shook his head, but he didn’t disagree with Martino, and Martino held on tighter. He didn’t want to go back in, didn’t want to spend the rest of the night looking over his shoulder, worried about who else he couldn’t trust.

“There you guys are.” 

Martino broke away quickly before he recognized Gio’s voice, letting out a breath as he relaxed. Gio came down the hall, followed by Elia and Luca.

“We were gonna go to Elia’s place and play some FIFA. This party is starting to suck.”

“What about Sofia?” Martino asked, and Gio shrugged, slinging an arm around Martino’s shoulders. “She said she’s gonna hang out with her friends.”

They were doing this for him, he thought as he surveyed Elia and Luca’s faces, him and Nico, and he felt a wave of gratitude. Glancing over at Niccolò, he cracked a smile finally.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” he agreed, not looking back as they all left the party behind.


	71. Becoming Friends with Edo

Martino was late to meet Nico, ducking around people in the halls, stuffing his books in his bag as he jumped down the front steps, and he managed to catch himself before running into the guy standing by the railing.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, raising his head and pausing as he caught sight of Edoardo. 

Martino didn’t think he’d ever spoken directly to Edoardo, and the most he knew about him was that he was a third year asshole who happened to throw great parties. But there was something else now, and instead of leaving Edoardo to go find Nico, he paused.

“Hey,” he said when Edoardo stared at him in that way that almost made Martino regret the words about to come out of his mouth. “I just wanted to thank you for kicking those assholes out of the party on Friday.”

Edoardo’s expression softened and he jerked his head. “It’s not a big deal.”

It might not have been to Edoardo, the straightest guy in school, but Martino couldn’t help thinking what might have happened if Edoardo and his friends hadn’t been there, hadn’t been able to kick those guys out.

“No,” Martino said. “It is. So, thank you.”

Edoardo seemed to pause, eyes darting down Martino, as though considering him, his words. “I don’t like people who hate for no reason.”

Martino nodded. Maybe Edoardo wasn’t as much of a dick as he’d supposed.

“Marti?”

Martino turned as Nico came up behind him, casting an unsure glance at Edoardo.

“Hey,” Martino greeted him. “Sorry, I got stuck in class.”

“Gio texted, said they’re going to the bar,” Nico said, glancing between him and Edoardo.

“Okay.” Martino turned to leave, but he hesitated, looking back at Edoardo. “Do you want come?” He didn’t expect Edoardo to say yes, but he was surprised when Edoardo smiled at him, as though Martino’s question surprised him as well.

“Maybe another time,” he said, and Martino nodded. He hadn’t expected much different, but the door was open.

“What was that?” Nico asked once they were out of earshot. “Since when are we friends with Edoardo Incanti?”

“Not friends,” Martino said as they turned the corner. “But maybe he’s not as bad as we thought.”

Nico arched an eyebrow. “I know Incanti is pretty, but I’m not losing you to his charms, am I?”

“No one compares to you,” Martino assured him, ruffling Nico’s hair as they walked, catching his grin. It was just one more weight off his shoulders, knowing he had someone like Edoardo on his side, and who knew, maybe some day they would be friends. For now, he would take the support and whatever tentative relationship they had just breached.

“Just give me a heads up if you want to do a threesome,” Nico said, and Martino laughed, shaking his head and shoved Nico’s shoulder as they reached the bar.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

Nico glanced at him as he opened the door. “Good,” he said simply, and Martino smiled, giving Nico a push inside. They didn’t need to worry about Edoardo. He was sure of that.


	72. Filo Takes the Boys to a Club

Martino isn’t entirely convinced this is a good idea, not after the last couple of weeks, even if Filippo assures them it’s safe, and completely necessary

“How are we going to get in?” Martino asks when Filippo proposes the idea. “We’re not all eighteen.”

“Leave that to me, Rose,” Filippo assures him, and Martino doesn’t know what he did, but they all get into the club—Gio, Martino, Luca, Elia, and Niccolò.

“Wow,” Luca breathes beside Martino as they follow Filippo through the crowd. Martino has never been out with Filippo, mostly because he’s _not_ eighteen yet and also because he’s never felt the need to go to a gay club in all the time he’s been out.

The club looks almost exactly like Martino pictured it, with rainbow flags behind the bar, guys dancing together on the dance floor, some sort of techno-pop music blaring as colorful lights flash over them.

“Have fun,” Filippo tells them, a hand on Martino’s shoulder, shouting over the music. “You don’t have to worry here.”

Martino wants to believe that. He wants to believe there are safe places in the world, where he can just be with Nico, places that aren’t his bedroom or Nico’s living room.

“There are so many guys,” Luca says, staring out at the dance floor, and Gio laughs, clapping his shoulder.

“It’s called a gay bar for a reason, Luchi.”

“Elia,” Filippo says from across the circle, and Martino feels Nico shifting closer, taking his hand carefully, as if testing the waters. “Come dance with me.”

Elia’s eyebrows go up at the question, and he looks around at the rest of the guys. Gio hides his laughter behind his hand, and Martino shakes his head at Filippo.

“Uh, okay,” he says after a second, and Filippo grabs his wrist and tugs him into the crowd.

“Go on,” Gio says, nodding at Martino. “I’ll watch Luchi. Make sure he doesn’t accidentally hit on anyone.”

Luca isn’t even listening, gazing around at all the guys squished in the club. Martino opens his mouth to say that they don’t have to go anywhere, that he’s fine just hanging out, but Nico’s fingers squeeze his hand. Taking a breath, he pushes down the anxiety rising in his chest and lets Nico tug him away, onto the dance floor.

“I can see you thinking,” Nico says, and Martino can’t help glancing around as Nico’s hands land on his waist. He just can’t get it out of his head, what happened the last time they even smiled at each other in public.

This is different, though. There’s a couple making out against the wall, another grinding together on the dance floor, and Martino is scared of Nico’s hands resting lightly on his waist.

“Aren’t you worried?” he asks as they sway with the music, not really dancing, and he doesn’t care about any of the other people around them as Nico leans in closer so he doesn’t have to shout, brushing a hand through Martino’s hair, falling to the back of his neck as he nods.

“All the time,” he admits, and Martino lifts his gaze to Nico’s. “And it’s not something that will ever go away, for either of us.”

Martino hates that it’s true. Reaching for Nico, he twines his arms around his shoulders, sighing deeply as he pulls Nico in close. He shouldn’t have to worry, here, with people who are just like them all around. No one even glances their way as they embrace. It’s a refreshing change, and even though Martino knows it’s temporary, he thinks maybe he needed this.

“We should listen to Filo,” he says, feeling Nico’s hands on the small of his back, moving back enough so he can see Nico’s face in the colored, flashing lights. “Have fun tonight.”

A smile grows on Nico’s face and he takes Martino’s face in his hands. “I love you, Marti,” he says, and even though Martino’s chest seizes up when Nico leans in and kisses him, he doesn’t duck out of the way. Nico has always been bolder than him.

Nothing happens. No one even looks. And Martino feels strangely relieved, elated even when Nico pulls back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers, nose pressed to Nico’s, and he kisses the grin off Nico’s face a second later.

“Guys!”

Elia interrupts them, pushing his way through the crowd to reach them, and Martino glances over.

“Guys,” Elia says again as he reaches them, face flushed. “I think Filo is flirting with me.”

Nico laughs into Martino’s shoulder, and Martino sighs. “Do you need me to tell him to stop?”

Elia actually looks embarrassed for a second, and Martino isn’t sure why. “I think I might have flirted back,” he says slowly. Martino stares. “I was wondering what I should do next.”

Martino doesn’t know what to say, and he elbows Nico as he only grins in response.

“Do next,” he repeats, as though his brain isn’t fully processing what Elia is saying.

“Obviously you should just kiss him,” Nico says, and Martino splutters, turning to him.

“Ni!” He doesn’t think that’s a good idea since, hello, Elia isn’t into guys?

Elia nods, though, like he’s actually considering it. Martino has no idea what’s going on. Are gay clubs somehow magical places that turn everyone gay?

“What?” Nico asks, squeezing Martino’s side. “He wasn’t into Silvia. I want to fulfill my dreams of being a matchmaker.”

“But with Filo?” Martino asks, glancing at Elia. “Are you into him?”

Elia shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s hot.”

Groaning, Martino doesn’t know what to say. Elia is going to do whatever he wants, and he can’t stop his boyfriend from giving terrible advice.

“If you like him, go for it,” Niccolò says despite Martino rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” Elia agrees as though Nico has said something profound, and he disappears into the crowd before Martino can stop him. Shooting Nico a look, he’s met with Nico’s innocent face—the one he uses when he knows he’s done something devious.

“This isn’t going to end well,” he says, but Nico shakes his head, grinning at Martino.

“Tonight, we don’t have to worry about anything,” he says simply, pulling Martino back to him, swaying his hips with the music, and Martino can’t help smiling. He feels relaxed finally, safe, with Niccolò, surrounded by people who don’t give two fucks about anything they’re doing.

“It’s not fair!”

Luca’s voice cuts through the crowd, and Martino looks behind him to Luca and Gio heading towards them.

“You can’t help it, Luchi,” Gio assures him as they reach Martino and Nico.

“Even gay guys don’t want me,” Luca says with a pathetic frown, and Gio shakes his shoulder.

“We’re still working on Silvia. She’ll come around.”

“What happened?” Martino asks, and Gio shakes his head.

“Three guys gave Gio their number,” Luca supplies. “Three!”

“You’ll get your day in the sun, Luchino,” Nico assures him. “How about you dance with us and forget about all your problems.”

Martino thinks he was right as the song changes and Nico persuades Luca to bounce along with him. This really is a magical place.


	73. Marti Goes to See Nico After the 2nd Party Fight

_I’m coming over_.

Nico gets Martino’s text just as he arrives home, standing in the doorway as his parents shrug off their coats and hang them on the rack.

Before Nico can even type out his response, three more messages pop up on the screen, one after another.

**Gio**   
_Martino’s coming to see you. Try to get him to sit down_

**Elia**   
_Marti wouldn’t get ice. Tell him not to be a dumbass._

**Luca**   
_Is Marti there yet?_

Confused, Nico stares at his phones. None of the messages are making sense, but he can feel the beginning of panic edging at his brain. Something has to be very wrong, very wrong with Martino.

“Aren’t you coming inside?” his mom asks as Nico as he stands in the open doorway. 

He doesn’t know exactly where Marti was tonight. He’d mentioned something about a party--there was always a party, but Nico had already had plans with his family. He doesn’t know how far away Martino is, and he’s beginning to worry, based on the messages, that Martino is hurt.

“I have to go find Marti,” he says instead of coming inside, shutting the door.

“Martino?” his mom asks, but Nico doesn’t respond, turning from the house and leaving down the steps.

Outside, it’s dark and cool, and Nico pauses, looking in both directions down the street.

_Where are you?_ he sends Martino, but he doesn’t get a reply.

Pacing, Nico shoves his hands in his pocket, curled around the phone, praying for it to vibrate. He can’t exactly go running off into the night, not if Martino is coming here. So he waits, impatient, increasingly worried as the minutes tick by and Martino doesn’t show up.

What exactly happened tonight? Why is everyone so worried about Martino?

It feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only five minutes, before Nico hears footsteps down the sidewalk and his head snaps up, falling on Martino’s familiar shape. Martino’s shoulders are hunched, though, and Nico doesn’t get a good look at him until he passes under a streetlamp and Nico feels his breath leaving him as he gets a look at Martino’s face, the bruise blossoming across the bridge of his nose, dried blood on his face.

“Marti,” Nico says, barely able to speak as Martino reaches him.

Martino doesn’t say anything for once, wrapping his arms around Nico, like he just wants to feel him there, to anchor himself in Nico.

Nico’s own heart beats faster as he holds onto Martino, tightly, arms around his shoulders, and he feels Martino’s sigh.

“What happened?” he asks when Martino finally shifts, and he realizes they’re standing outside as it gets colder. Taking Martino’s hand, he pulls him towards the apartment, at least beyond the gate, into the relative safety of the building.

“It’s fine,” Martino says, shaking his head, but Nico doesn’t believe him for a second.

“You’ve got blood… It looks like your nose is broken,” he says, lifting his hands to Martino’s face, and Martino flinches away. It’s bad, whatever it was, and Nico thinks he can guess from the way Martino’s eyes are downcast, from the texts from his friends on his phone. When Martino doesn’t respond, Nico links their fingers together gently. “Come on. You need to get ice on that.”

He tugs Martino up the stairs, silence falling around them as they climb, and Nico can feel Martino behind him. His heart hasn’t calmed, a wave of anxiety crashing in his stomach every moment Martino doesn’t speak, like something is truly wrong.

“Aren’t your parents home?” Martino asks as they reach the landing, and Nico pauses, turning back to him.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t want them to see…” Martino says, trailing off, taking a short breath, as though afraid of finishing his thought. “I should just go home.”

“No,” Nico says, pulling Martino to him, searching his gaze. “You need to come in and sit down and let me clean you up.”

Martino looks like he wants to argue, but Nico doesn’t let him. He’s not going to let Martino go home all alone and deal with this by himself. If Martino doesn’t want to talk about it, they don’t have to, but Nico is going to be there.

Opening the door, he sticks his head inside, listening for his parents’ voices, but the living room is silent.

“Come on,” he tells Martino, opening the door wider and letting Martino in first. He knows he doesn’t have to sneak Martino in, but his parents will ask all sorts of questions if they see him. The bruise looks even worse in the apartment light, and Nico makes sure his parents aren’t in the living room before nodding Martino into his room.

As Martino disappears, he heads for the kitchen, finding his mom pouring a glass of wine.

“Did you find Martino?” she asks as he heads to the freezer, rummaging for anything he can use to bring down the swelling.

“Yeah,” he says, not bothering to lie. “He needs to talk to me about something, so if you don’t mind…”

She shoots him a knowing look, taking a sip. “He can stay, but not too late, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods, waiting until she leaves to grab a pack of frozen vegetables and a washcloth, soaking it in warm water before heading for his room.

Martino sits on the edge of his bed, head bowed, hands in his lap, and Nico pauses as he shuts the door behind him.

“Here,” he says gently, handing Martino the bag and sitting down next to him. Martino turns it over in his hands, and Nico frowns. This isn’t the Martino he’s used to. Even in his down times, Martino can manage a smile, to look on the bright side, but he feels weighed down. Taking Martino’s arm, Nico carefully raises it so Martino has to lay the bag against his nose.

Tilting Martino’s chin up, Nico uses the cloth to wipe away the blood. There’s not a lot of it, so he doesn’t think the punch was too bad. It had to have been a fight, he thinks, as his phone vibrates in his pocket. He watches Martino sigh, a heavy exhale as they sit in silence on Nico’s bed.

“Filippo was right,” Martino says after a long minute, and Nico has no idea what he means by that, setting the cloth aside. “I knew people would hate me just for being me, but I didn’t know it would be like this.”

Scooting closer, Nico doesn’t know what to say. Martino still has his head tilted back, holding the frozen bag to his face, his eyes closed.

“Not everyone,” Nico says finally, curling into Martino. It’s the only comfort he can give as his anxiety turns to fear. It could happen to either one of them at any time, and though Nico tries his best not to think about it most of the time, the worry is still there.

Martino drops his head, taking away the bag, and the bruise seems even deeper now, spreading under his eyes, purple and red and angry.

“When I came out to Filippo, I said some really stupid things,” he says, “because I had no idea. I thought somehow I’d be safe because I don’t wear flowery shirts or have pink hair, that if I didn’t kiss a guy in public, I could somehow avoid all this. But Filo was right. It’s who I am.”

“I like who you are,” Nico assures him, wrapping his arm around Martino’s waist and leaning into his shoulder. They don’t talk about it much, the looks they sometimes get walking down the street, how careful they have to be in public. But he knows they both think about it. Every time Martino ducks away from a kiss, every time their fingers brush against each other when they’re at a cafe. “Some people are just assholes. We can’t change that.”

Martino nods slowly, glancing at Nico finally. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come tonight.”

Guilt gnaws at Nico even as Martino says it, though he knows he wouldn’t have been any help. He would have frozen up again, just like he did last time, heart racing, pulse pounding in his ears.

“I always want to be there for you,” he assures Martino instead, and the corners of Martino’s mouth turn up finally.

“What did you tell your parents?” Martino asks because he knows Nico too well, and Nico edges Martino back, onto the bed so he can curl into him, arms wrapped around Martino’s shoulders and hugging him close.

“We’ve got some time,” he says, pressing his lips to Martino’s forehead. He’s not going to let Martino leave until he feels better, and even though he knows this won’t be the last time it happens, Martino has to know he’s not in this alone. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Martino nods into his shoulder, and Nico feels him relax, tension flooding out of his shoulders as they lie there, and Nico sighs against Martino’s temple, closing his eyes and blocking out the worries crowding his thoughts, hold Martino tight instead.


	74. Marti & Nico Waking Up Together

The bed is still unfamiliar, but the warmth of Nico beside him isn’t, and Martino blinks awake in the sunlight streaming through the window. They took down the old flowery curtain last week and still haven’t gotten a new curtain up. 

For a moment, Martino doesn’t shift away from Niccolò, his head resting in the crook of Nico’s arm, and from here, he can see every hair on the back of Nico’s neck, the soft strands curling around his ear, and Martino smiles to himself. It’s still new—this apartment, this bed, how the door is on the wrong side, the way the floor creaks—but he loves this part.

Tucking his head against Nico’s arm, he lets his fingers brush over Nico’s cheek. He doesn’t pull away when Niccolò’s eyes flicker open, soft and dark, a smile curving his lips.

“Stalker,” Nico says, and Martino laughs, but he doesn’t roll away, too content with Nico’s hand sliding over his shoulder.

“You love it,” he says instead, pressing his nose to Nico’s and breathing in the soft scent of sleep enveloping them. The apartment still kind of smells like mothballs and old lady, but it’s starting to smell like _theirs_ anyway.

“Maybe,” Nico admits, and he sighs. “What should we do today?”

It’s Saturday, the first weekend in their new apartment, well, Nico’s grandmother’s apartment. It’s theirs now. Martino just has to get used to it.

“Absolutely nothing,” he says, nudging his lips against Nico’s, asking for a kiss, smiling when he gets it.

Nothing can intrude on this moment, Martino thinks as he kisses Nico, rolling on top of him. Nico’s hands roam down his back, sliding under his tee shirt, gentle touches up his back. No one is going to burst through the door. No parent is about to come home. They’re all alone.

Nico laughs, though, as Martino’s fingers trip over his collar bone, breaking the kiss.

“Asshole,” Martino says, but he’s not annoyed, not really, when Nico grins up at him.

“You love me,” Nico says, and Martino looks down at Nico, the warmth in his gaze, and he leans in again, feeling Nico’s hands coming up to bracket his face.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, quiet, watching the brush of Nico’s eyelashes against his cheek, the crinkles at the edge of his eyes as he smiles.

Nico kisses him slowly, different than before, lingering for a second before leaning back into the pillow.

Flopping back onto his side, Martino twines his fingers with Niccolò’s instead. He’d be content to stay in bed forever, to just enjoy this.

“We should make carbonara,” Nico says a minute later, and Martino snorts.

“Only if we go to the store and buy the right ingredients,” he says. “No honey.”

“But tabasco?”

Martino can’t help his grin as Nico meets his gaze, eyes bright. He nods after a second. “Okay.”

They’ll go to the store later, but for now, Martino doesn’t want to go anywhere.


End file.
